While The Hunted Search
by Margaret R. O'Halloran
Summary: Formerly called NO TITLE YET. When Director Shepard goes missing in Manhattan and a victim matching her description is found in SVU's territory, the two teams are thrown together. Be warned! RATED M FOR MATURE THEMES.
1. Enemies

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. That'd be Dick Wolf and NBC. I also don't own NCIS. That'd be CBS. I'm just borrowing the characters, and I promise to return them by midnight, fed, clean, and unharmed. Mostly.**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Wednesday, <strong>******December ********21st, ********2:21********A.M.****

Jennifer Shepard shifted impatiently on her bar-stool. She'd been waiting in the pub for over an hour and a half for her informant and he still hadn't shown. She had come all the way to this Manhattan bar from NCIS headquarters because this informant, screen name Realist012, told her that he wouldn't give her any information over the web, and wouldn't meet her outside of his comfort zone. Smart man. She wanted info on a man she'd been watching for months. She couldn't get it anywhere else. She agreed to meet him in this dump. Not a smart woman. She rubbed her eyes blearily and checked her watch for the umpteenth time and sighed. The room was spinning. Too many glasses of Johnny Walker will do that to a girl. She took one last look around the bar, drained her glass, and pulled a twenty out of her wallet to pay the bartender, a sweet man named Thomas. Time to go back to her hotel room, book a flight back to DC in the morning and get some sleep. She laid the money on the counter and slid off the stool, grabbing her overcoat.  
><em><em>Great <em>___job, ____Jenny. ____You ____got ____stood ____up. ____Got ____yourself ____drunk.  
><em>_She slipped into her coat and stumbled to the door. She stopped to lean on the door jamb. This was wrong. She'd only had two glasses of drink, she shouldn't feel this buzzed. Her head spun and her stomach lurched. Nobody had touched her drink...could someone have drugged her? She put a hand to her forehead. What the hell was going on? A strong arm snaked around her waist and she felt something hard, metallic and cold press into her lower back.

"Well, well, well. Director Shepard. I didn't think you'd give up that easily. Only an hour and forty five minutes? I gave you more credit than that."

Jenny tried to turn to look the figure in the eye but the arm gripped her waist tighter, pulling her against a muscular body.

"What do you want?" she slurred.

"Let's go for a walk, Director. Someplace more... private." The figure called to the bartender, "Hey, thanks for the drink, Tommy. I'll see you tomorrow." As the figure pushed her out into the cold night, the snow swirling around them, Jenny felt her adrenaline pumping and saw her opportunity. Elbowing her attacker in the ribs, she wrenched away and bolted into the parking lot.

"Stupid bitch!" the figure growled. She screamed for help as she ran, knew she wouldn't get very far. She could already hear the assailant running behind her, could feel a grasp just miss her hair. Of all the days to wear Jimmy Choo's! She slid on black ice and felt someone grab her arm.

"Don't slip, Jenny."

She froze. She slowly turned to look at her pursuer and drew in a sharp breath.

"You..."

The figure grinned.

"That's right. Me." A strong arm raised and brought the gun down over her skull.

A sharp pain erupted in her head and an animal-like whine escaped her. A warm trickle oozed down her face and one word rang through her core.

"Why?"

The figure sneered.

"Because I can."

****5:43********A.M.****

"What have we got?" Detective Stabler called to the Manhattan Officer, ducking under the yellow crime tape.

"White female, late 40's, found alive but unconscious behind this bar, pantsless, beaten and shot. No ID, no wallet, no car keys."

"Anyone nearby hear or see anything?" Detective Benson asked, walking toward them.

"No. CSU is bagging and tagging as we speak, but it's still snowing, so we're working as fast as we can."

"Great. Thanks." Stabler pulled his jacket tighter around himself and turned to his partner. She was wearing a low cut knee length burgundy dress, a charcoal coat, black heels, and expensive looking jewelry. Her hair was gathered and held back by a cream colored satin ribbon and her makeup was impeccably done.

"You're all fancied up. Coming from a hot date?"

Olivia pushed a stray hair behind her ear, eyed her partner.

"And you look like crap. Have you talked to the vic yet?" She pushed her bare hands back in her coat pockets.

"No, I just got here," he replied. Olivia nodded and walked away from him, toward the alley. "Are you gonna answer my question?" He called after her. She ignored him.

"She say anything?" Olivia asked the female E.M.T. standing beside the woman on the gurney.

"No, she's been out since we got here," the E.M.T. replied without looking up. "We're heading to Bellevue."

"Great." Olivia turned to Elliot. "I'll ride along."

"I'll head into the bar and ask around. Somebody had to have heard something." Elliot turned and headed up the alley.

It was going to be a long day.

****6:30********A.M.****

****NCIS********Headquarters****

Abby stepped off the elevator nursing her third Caf-Pow of the day and walked into her lab. She put her bag down, turned the lights on and began booting up her system. She was worried. She was supposed to meet Agent David for a drink last night, but Ziva never showed and she wasn't answering her phone. So Abby decided to head up to the bullpen early. Besides, she wanted to get McGee's advice on a new MMORPG she'd started playing. He held the highest records on it and, as much as it pained her, she was smart enough to recognize when to ask the master for help. Abby took the elevator to the bullpen and saw Gibbs sitting at his desk reviewing files.

"Wow. You're here early, Gibbs," she commented, walking up to him.

"Never left, Abbs," he replied, not looking up.

"You didn't go home last night? Why?"

"New case."

Abby's jaw dropped. "Already? Didn't you just wrap one up?"

"It's not ours, Abby." Gibbs closed the folder he was perusing and added it to a small stack on his right. He took another from a much larger stack on his left and opened it.

"Well then...whose is it?" She wandered over and peeked at the name on the cover of one of the files. Her eyes opened wide and she dropped her half full Caf-Pow to the floor.

"You took files from Director Shepard's desk? Gibbs, that's suicide!"

"No, Abby, it's not, because I didn't take them," Gibbs replied, looking up at Abby.

"She gave them to you?"

"...Not exactly."

"I thought you said you didn't take them!"

"I didn't." Gibbs raised his eyebrows at Ziva's desk.

Abby turned to follow his line of sight. Ziva was asleep in her chair, a case file open on her lap and a half eaten carton of lo mein on her desk with chopsticks sticking out of it.

Abby pursed her lips and frowned.

"I've been calling her all night! We were suppose to meet for drinks, Gibbs. What did you do?"

"That was you? She had to turn her phone off, Abby! It rang while she was in the directors house!"

"You went to her house?" Abby shrieked.

"Shhhh!" Gibbs scolded. Ziva stirred in her chair. The folder slid off her lap.

"You went to her house?" Abby whispered.

"No. Not 'we', 'she'. Ziva went alone," Gibbs replied.

The elevator dinged and Tony, McGee and Ducky stepped off.

"Who went alone where, boss?" Tony asked.

"None of your business, Tony." Gibbs closed the case file.

"Got it. Need to know and I do not need to know." Tony replied, inclining his head toward Ziva. "She been here all night?"

"Yeah...you got a problem with that, Agent Dinozzo?" Gibbs stood. Tony put his bag down.

"No, sir."

"Good. Grab your gear. We've got a case."

"Already? Boss, I just got in."

"Do I look like I care, Dinozzo?"

Tony picked his bag up again.

"Who is it, Gibbs?" McGee asked.

"23 year old Marine Corps, James Hale. Shot in the head and found with two civilian bodies," Abby read from the file Gibbs had just closed. "Spooky."

Gibbs threw her a burning look.

"Is that it, boss?" McGee asked.

"Yeah, that's the one," Gibbs replied, turning toward the elevator.

"Shouldn't we wake Ziva?"

"Well, that depends, Probey." Tony smirked. "Can you do it without scaring the crap out of her?"

"I'll do it," Ducky mumbled. "A bunch of pansies, the lot of you." He rested a hand on Ziva's forearm.

"If you plan to keep that arm, Tony, I suggest you remove your hand immediately," she stated calmly without opening her eyes.

"Actually, Ziva, it's Dr. Mallard. Your team has a case and they are leaving without you." He glanced up at McGee and Tony then whispered softly in her ear, "And Ziva, do I smell alcohol on your breath, dear?"

Ziva's eyes flew open.

"No." She sat up and pulled her feet off her desk. "Thank you, Ducky." She grabbed her go bag and looked stormily at Tony. "It seems my team was about to leap ship without me."

"The term is jump ship, Ziva." Tony gave her a smug look.

"Let's GO people! Come on!" Gibbs yelled from behind the closing elevator doors. The three agents ran to catch up and Ducky turned to Abby.

"I'm afraid today is going to be a long day, My Dear Abby." He picked up her Caf-Pow and handed it to her. "Yes... a very long day indeed."

****8:45********A.M.****

****Bellevue********Hospital,********Room********582****

****Manhattan****

Olivia poured herself another glass of water from the pitcher on their Jane Doe's bedside table and sat back down in her chair at the end of the bed. She sighed. She hadn't slept the night before and wanted to go home and change into some more comfortable clothes. She crossed her ankles and sipped from her paper cup. She knew she should have told her partner that she thought she saw the woman in Tommy's bar the night before, but she wanted to be sure. Olivia'd been there with her blind date, but she knew the minute she saw him that it wouldn't work out. She was going to ream Novak a new one when she heard from her. Who sets a lesbian up with a man anyway?

She looked over at the woman on the hospital bed. She thought she remembered seeing her stumbling toward the door at the end of the night, then a man coming up behind her and whispering in her ear, but Olivia wasn't sure. Her date had gotten kind of handsy at that point and she just wanted to get the hell out of there. Her cell vibrated, making an awful noise against the plastic chair.

"Benson..." she answered.

"It's me."

"Hey, Elliot." Olivia rested her forehead on her hand.

"Do we have an ID on our Jane Doe yet?"

"No. She's still out. You get any leads at the bar?" She was getting a headache.

"Nope. A whole lot of people remember her going in but nobody remembers her leaving." Elliot paused. "You gonna tell me why you don't want to talk about your get-up?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. The woman on the bed stirred.

"I gotta go, Elliot. She's waking up." She snapped the phone closed before Elliot could object and stood up. The woman opened her eyes and looked over at Olivia.

"Where am I?" She lifted a hand to her head.

Olivia's own head throbbed.

"You're at Bellevue Hospital in Manhattan." Olivia walked over to the bed. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Hospital...? What happened to me?" The woman asked.

"You were attacked."

"Attacked? How?"

"You were beaten and shot. You were found behind Tommy's Pub, naked from the waist down," Olivia said quietly putting a hand on the bed rail. "Can you tell me your name, ma'am?"

"Was I raped?"

"No, you weren't. Can you give me your name?"

"Uh...Jennifer. Jennifer Shepard." Jennifer closed her eyes and tried to sit up in the bed, but winced. Olivia stilled her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't try to move too much. You lost a lot of blood."

"Who did this to me?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Ms. Shepard." Olivia reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her notebook.

"Jenny."

Olivia looked up at the smaller woman in front of her. "I'm sorry?"

"Call me Jenny."

Olivia smiled. "I'm Detective Benson. You can call me Olivia. Can you tell me what you remember?"

"Not a lot...I uh...I remember sitting at the bar. I was supposed to meet someone. He never showed. I got up to leave, and I felt sick."

Olivia heard the words just as she felt them. Her stomach lurched.

"I don't remember anything else." Jennifer looked panicked. "Why can't I remember anything else?"

"The doctors ran a tox screen and found Rohipnol in your blood." Olivia's vision blurred for a moment.

"Rohipnol? I was drugged?"

"Yes. Can you excuse me for a moment?" Olivia went to the paper cup by her chair and took another sip of her water.

She returned to the woman's bedside.

"You say you remember sitting at the bar. Do you remember anything before that?"

"Uh...yes. I uh, I took a cab there from my hotel on 26th street. There was a man..." She paled. "Oh, my god."

Olivia furrowed her brow. "What is it?"

"The man...he was one of them. How could I not see it, he was-" She stopped abruptly and made a strangled gagging sound.

"Jenny?" Olivia called.

Jenny's hand clutched the rail, knuckles white, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She began thrashing about. Olivia dropped her notebook and reached over the woman to hold her arms down, but the hand clutching the rail came up. Olivia felt it strike her face, felt the woman's ring cut her skin, the warm trickle of blood on her cheek. The monitors around the bed began sounding their alarms. She reeled back for a moment, clutching her face, but she recovered quickly, rushing forward to hold Jenny's arms down.

"Help! I need help in here!" she shouted, a gaggle of nurses running in, all shouting at each other.

"She's seizing."

"Push 5 milligrams Diazepam, stat."

"Get her out of here!"

One of the nurses, a blonde woman came over, pushing Olivia back out of the room.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here."

Olivia's head ached. Her stomach heaved, and the room began to spin. She clutched at the nurses arms.

"Are you alright?" The nurse asked.

"I need to get a statement from her," Olivia managed.

"Well, you're going to have to get it later." The nurse pushed her back harder.

Olivia's head was searing and for a moment she couldn't see. The sounds around her became distorted. The floor felt like it was slipping away from her.

"Ma'am, are you sure you're alright?" the nurse asked.

__No___, _she thought. __Do____I____look____alright?__

Olivia tried to say, "I think I need help", but all that came out was, "ihthink...edd hell..." She wasn't sure which of the four rotating blonde nurses holding her up she was supposed to be directing her answer to. Her legs gave out under her, and the nurse gripped her tighter.

"Ma'am! Shit. Rhonda! Get me another gurney!"

Olivia didn't want a gurney, she wanted water and her statement. She tried to pull away from the nurse, but she just gripped Olivia's arms tighter.

"It's gonna be okay, ma'am."

Olivia felt herself being lifted onto a gurney. She wanted to tell them she just needed water, but her body wouldn't respond to her brains commands. She heard a distant voice calling to her, but she didn't understand what they were saying. Her tongue felt heavy and her head was splitting. She closed her eyes. She tried so hard to stay awake, but she was so tired. So very tired...

****9:32********A.M.****

****Manhattan********SVU********Squad********Room****

Elliot tapped a pen against his desk. He wanted to give his partner time to get an ID from their victim, but he was getting anxious. He stood and crossed his arms. He'd already gone over all the statements he took at the crime scene twice. Munch and Fin just watched him pace. Finally, Munch spoke up.

"Elliot, will you relax? She's gonna call when she's got the ID."

Elliot sighed.

"I know. I know." A few minutes later, his desk phone rang and he answered it before it could ring a second time.

"Detective Stabler."

"Yes, hello. This is Dr. Keller at Bellevue hospital."

Elliot dropped his shoulders. "Hi, Doctor... can I help you with something?"

"Yes, actually. Do you know an Olivia Benson?"

He stiffened. "She's my partner. Is she alright?"

"She's awake now, and she's listed you as her emergency contact."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean 'she's awake now'?"

Munch and Fin stood.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Detective, I thought someone had notified you. Your partner collapsed earlier. She was slurring her words and passed out on one of my nurses. She was bleeding from a cut on her face."

"I'm on my way." Elliot hung up the phone, already halfway in his coat.

"Is she alright?" Fin asked.

"Tell Cragen I'm goin' to Bellevue," Elliot called over his shoulder. Fin started walking towards the captain's office.

"What happened?" Munch yelled.

"Olivia passed out."

****10:00********A.M.****

****Marine********Corps********Base,********Quantico,********Virginia****

"You took files from the director's desk?" Tony asked, holding his camera.

"Yes," Ziva replied, photographing the crime scene with hers.

"Why?"

"Do you know why I like dead men, Tony?" Ziva asked, looking through the lens of her camera at the dead Marine.

"Do I wanna know, Ziva?"

"Dead men don't ask questions," McGee quipped.

"That's exactly right, McGee." Ziva snapped a picture of the marine and walked away.

"What's eating her?" Tony asked after she'd gone.

"You keep asking her about those files, and you'll be a dead man," McGee replied.

Dinozzo laughed. McGee looked at him stoicly. Tony stopped laughing.

"Come on, Probey. She's not gonna kill me... is she?"

"Oh, I wouldn't count on it, Agent Dinozzo." Ducky slid down the muddy slope behind them.

"Thanks, Ducky." Dinozzo smiled.

"On the other hand, if I were you, I would stop asking. She does scare me just the slightest bit. It's the unpredictability, I think."

The smile fell off of Tony's face.

"What have we got, Ducky?" Gibbs called from the top of the hill behind them.

"Preliminary cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head, right between the eyes," Ducky replied, crouching over the body.

"Execution style. So, we're looking for a pro?" Tony asked.

"Yes, perhaps. But, the sloppiness of the handiwork tells me otherwise. I'm not sure yet, Jethro, but I wouldn't be surprised if the other two, the civilians, were killed in a similar fashion." Ducky stood and walked over to where the other two bodies lay, their faces covered by black plastic trash bags secured around the neck with duct tape. "I shall know soon enough."

"I've got something over here!" Ziva's voice rang.

McGee, Gibbs, and Tony ran over to her. A wall of the most horrible smell hit them as they came up behind her.

"Oh, man!" Tony yelled, tucking his face into the crook of his arm.

"What is that?" McGee choked.

"That is the smell of our good friend here," Ziva pointed over her head into the branches of a tree. "Decaying."

"Ducky! We've got another body in this tree here!" Gibbs yelled.

"Yes, and I daresay you'll want to look at this Jethro!" Ducky called back.

The four agents ran back over to where the marine's body had been found.

"What is it, Ducky?" Tony asked.

"Either someone lied to us, or we were all very wrong." Ducky stood and waved them all down the slope.

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked.

"His cause of death was not a gunshot wound to the head," Ducky stated grimly.

"Yeah, ok. That happens a lot though, doesn't it Ducky?" Tony said, trying to be reassuring.

"His cause of death is a deep laceration to major arteries near his genitals." Ducky turned away from them and walked over to the other two bodies. "They were killed in the same gruesome fashion, however the killer went to the trouble of lacerating their faces as well, beyond recognition. One male, one female, mid to late twenties."

"Ok, so the C.O.D. was wrong. What's the problem Ducky?" Gibbs was getting impatient.

"They are not civilians." Ducky lifted the hand of the female to show them. "No fingerprints on either of them, federal identification badges found under their bodies. It's a shame, really. It seems as if she had been very beautiful."

"I'll be the judge of that, Ducky." Tony smirked. Ziva hit him hard on the arm. "Ow! Boss, Ziva hit me!"

"She beat me to it, Tony," Gibbs replied.

Tony rubbed his arm wincing.

This was going to be a very long day.

****10:02********A.M.****

****Bellevue********Hospital,********Manhattan****

Elliot walked up to the nurses station and showed his badge to a woman on the phone. She pointed to his left, at a doctor reviewing a chart at the end of the counter.

"Are you Dr. Keller?" he asked.

The man looked up.

"Yes, I am. You must be Elliot." The doctor extended his hand to shake Elliot's, but it was ignored.

"You mind telling me what the hell happened?" Elliot snapped.

The doctor frowned.

"Your partner was watching over your Jane Doe when the patient seized. Olivia was attempting to help and was struck in the face by one of the woman's flailing limbs. She has a small cut, but she'll be fine. When nurses came in to treat the patient, your partner was asked to leave. She argued with one of our nurses, Beth, who was attempting to escort her out, Beth says that your partner was incoherent and unsteady. When she asked if your partner was alright, she was non-responsive and collapsed." The doctor opened his mouth to continue, then hesitated for a moment.

"What?" Elliot prompted.

"Detective, did your partner have any surgery in the past 5 hours?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, she had anesthetic in her system. It's most commonly used to put patients under."

Elliot fumed. He clenched his fists.

"Where is she? I want to see her. Now."

"She's in room 584, two doors down from your Jane Doe. She's cleared to leave and requested that you come and pick her up."

Elliot turned on his heel and walked to Olivia's room. He knocked on the door frame.

"What did you do with it?" a man's voice growled.

"I don't know! I told you that already!" Olivia yelled. A sharp crack sounded and then a grunt, a whimper. Elliot pulled his sidearm out of its holster and laid his finger across the barrel before opening the door and entering.

Olivia was standing at the foot of the hospital bed in her dress, a man in black gripping her upper arms and pushing her back toward the bed.

"Stop lying to me!" The man slapped Olivia again, causing her head to snap to the left.

"Freeze! Show me your hands!" Elliot yelled, raising the gun.

The man paused, turned to look at Elliot. Olivia kneed him in the groin and the man crumpled at her feet. Elliot rushed over and forced his knee into the mans back, cuffed him.

"Who the hell is this guy, Liv?"

"The water in her room is drugged," Olivia shot over her shoulder as she ran down the hall to Jennifer's room, threw the door open.

"Detective Benson." Jenny was surprised. "Are you alright?"

"Where's the water pitcher that was here?" Olivia demanded.

"A man in black came in and removed it, said he was going to get me fresh water. Why?"

Olivia went to the woman's bedside.

"It was drugged. Do you know anyone who would want you dead, Jenny?" Olivia asked, Elliot coming in the room behind her.

"A lot of people might. It comes with the territory."

"Jenny, what territory?"

Jennifer looked up at Olivia and rolled her eyes.

"I'm the director of NCIS, detective. I make a lot of enemies."

**_**Well,**_****_**Boys**_****_**and**_****_**Girls?**_****_**What**_****_**do**_****_**you**_****_**think?**_****_**I**_****_**know**_****_**I**_****_**left**_****_**it**_****_**kind**_****_**of**_****_**hanging,**_****_**but**_****_**it'll**_****_**all**_****_**make**_****_**sense**_****_**in**_****_**the**_****_**end,**_****_**TRUST**_****_**ME.**_****_**Questions,**_****_**comments,**_****_**and**_****_**criticism**_****_**are**_****_**always**_****_**welcome!**_****_**:D**_**

**_**Next**_****_**installment**_****_**coming**_****_**soon!**_****_**TTFN,**_****_**my**_****_**fine**_****_**furry**_****_**friends!**_**

**_**XO,**_****_**Jenova**_****_**Pellam**_**


	2. First Appearances

****DISCLAIMER: I don't own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. That'd be Dick Wolf and NBC. I also don't own NCIS. That'd be CBS. I'm just borrowing the characters, and I promise to return them by midnight, fed, clean, and unharmed. Mostly.****

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><p><strong>10:15 A.M.<strong>

**NCIS Headquarters**

Gibbs stepped into the elevator and began the journey down to Abby. He could hear the brain jarring noise she called music from the elevator shaft above her lab. Correction- he could feel the noise in his bones. He stuffed his index fingers into his ears and stepped into the hall outside her door. He took a deep breath, counted to three, and stepped through the open door.

"Abby!" he shouted, looking around for her. He caught a glimpse of black pigtails bobbing in front of one of the many computer screens. "Abby!" he called again, louder this time. The pigtails kept bobbing. "Turn that racket off!"

Bob, bob, bob.

Gibbs sighed, made his way to the stereo, kicked at the plug in the wall until it came out. When the music stopped he pulled his fingers out of his ears.

"Hey!" Abby shrieked.

"You're gonna make me deaf, Abby!" he scolded.  
>"I was listening to that!"<p>

"What can you tell me about our two Doe's?"

Abby scowled and walked to her keyboard. She punched a few keys, called up a spreadsheet, and turned to stare at Gibbs angrily.

"What?" he barked.

"Are you gonna apologize to me?"

"No," he stated simply.

She pouted for a minute, then sighed and turned back to her keyboard.

"Ducky finished the autopsies about five minutes ago and I ran their dental records through the system. I came up with two hits from the National Sex Offender Registry."

"Wait a minute, our two Doe's are-"

"Perverts, Gibbs. Pervy, pervy, perverts," Abby sang. "Doe number one, Jane, is actually Mallory Killinger, listed as a level I offender in California. Two counts child pornography." Abby shuddered. "Doe numero dos, John, is actually Grant Killinger, listed as a level III offender in California for three counts rape, five counts sexual assault, two counts soliciting a minor, and ten counts child pornography. The rape and sexual assault counts are listed here as spousal abuse." Abby turned to look at Gibbs. "Spouse being Mallory. And there were traces of chemicals in his system consistent with the chemical castration treatments mandated by California state law."

"So two offenders from California wound up dead on a U.S. Marine Corps base in Quantico lying on top of Marine Personnel ID badges?" Gibbs asked. "How, Abby?"

"Got me there, Gibbs. But, I can tell you that the ID badges our two wackjobs were lying on belong to Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps Leonard Rice and Colonel Anna Penelope Veller, neither of whom showed up for work today." Abby smiled at Gibbs expectantly.

"Is that it?" he asked.

Her smile faded. "Yes..."

He kissed her on the cheek and jogged to the elevator.

"Great job, Abbs!" he called over his shoulder.

"Aren't you gonna plug my stereo back in?" she called after him.  
>"No!" he yelled as the elevator doors closed. He pressed the button to take him back up to the bull-pen and smiled to himself when he heard the horrible noises start up from her lab again.<br>-

**Wednesday, December 21st, 10:45 A.M.**

**SVU Squad Room**

Olivia entered the squad room with her coat over her arm and her clutch in her hand. Her face stung. The cut from Jenny's ring was throbbing and the bruise from the slap that man in black dealt her felt like it might have cracked her cheekbone. She hadn't been home to change yet and her feet were killing her. She tottered to her desk, tossed the coat over the back of her chair and slumped gratefully into the unforgiving seat. She leaned down; her hair fell over her face. She slipped her shoes off and winced as the back of the shoe and lip around the toe cut into her skin.

"Whoa, Olivia! You look good!" Munch called, hanging up his desk phone. "Hot date last night?"

Olivia rubbed her feet, then looked up at Munch.

"Jeezis, Liv," Munch whispered. He stood and walked over to her desk, crouched in front of her, touched her face. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, John." Olivia pulled away, limped barefoot to the coffee pots and poured herself a mug.

"Nothing?" Munch repeated, then stood. "You got a cut on one side of your face and a handprint on the other."

Olivia turned to face him, her eyes angry.

"Our victim had a seizure. I tried to help and the poor woman's body was spasming so violently that she accidentally struck me." She pointed to the cut. "And this handprint?" She pointed to the bruise on the other cheek, then walked around him, heading back toward her desk. "I got that when some nutcase in black snuck into my room and started screaming at me, asking me where 'it' was. Apparently, he didn't like my answer Munch." She turned to him and looked at him angrily. "Are we done?"

Munch looked her up and down and paused when he saw another deep purple handprint on her inner thigh where the skirt had ridden up. He glanced up at Olivia. She glared at him, daring him to bring it up.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "We're done, Liv."

**10:48 A.M.**

Elliot walked out into the hall from the men's room, his hands in his pockets. He began the walk to his desk.

"Hey, Elliot, you got a minute?" Munch called from the hall behind him.

Elliot turned.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Munch came up alongside him.

"It's about Olivia. I'm worried about her, Elliot."

Stabler stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why?"

"She's got some serious bruises."

Elliot shook his head and chuckled.

"Those are from a vic's seizure and some nutbag roaming hospitals trying to get information from women."

"What about the one on her leg?" Munch asked.

Elliot scowled.

"Wait, what?"

"She's got a real bad bruise on her inner thigh. Like somebody grabbed it hard, tried to pull her legs open."

Elliot glared at Munch. "And how the hell do you know that?"

"I saw it."

Elliot gripped Munch's lapels and slammed him against the wall.

"You stay the hell away from my partner, John, you got that?"

"I didn't do anything, Elliot, her dress was riding up and I saw it!" Munch shot angrily.

"Keep your eyes off her thighs!" Elliot yelled back. He let go of John's jacket and backed up a few feet, rubbing his face.

"Elliot, I didn't touch her."

Elliot turned back to the thin greying man and looked at him with contempt. He scoffed, turned on his heel and headed for the bullpen. He stopped at Olivia's desk and grabbed her upper arm, lifting her out of her chair.

"Let's go."

"Hey! What the hell?" Olivia tried to shrug him off, but he gripped her harder.

"You're going home to change."

"Get your hands off me, Elliot! I'm not your daughter!"

"What the hell is going on here?" Cragen yelled, walking over.

Elliot and Olivia turned to look at him.

"Misunderstanding, Captain," Elliot supplied, pulling Olivia toward the door.

"Elliot, where are you going? Get back here!" Cragen barked at him.

Elliot froze, his back to his Captain. Olivia wrenched her arm out of his grasp, adjusted her dress.

"Really, Captain. It was just a misunderstanding," she said.

"You're sure? Cuz you're still shaking, Olivia."

"Yeah," she said, attempting a smile.

Cragen eyed them both. When he was reassured, he walked away.

Olivia turned on Elliot.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Elliot?" she hissed.

"Look, Olivia, I don't want you running around half naked," Elliot muttered back. Olivia stood close to him, so her face was inches from his.

"'You don't want me'? It's not your call, Elliot! It's my body."

"Who gave you the bruise on your leg?" Elliot asked, leaning closer.

Olivia froze.

"None of your damn business, Elliot," she snapped, grabbing her coat and clutch from her desk. Elliot came over, blocked her path to the door.

"Move," she demanded.

"Talk to me, Olivia."

"Elliot, get the hell out of my way or I swear to God..." she warned.

"You'll what, Olivia?" Elliot asked, his voice rising with the red creeping up his neck. He moved closer, forcing her back against her desk. She slapped him across the face; a few other officers looked up. Elliot waited until they all went back their duties and leaned in until his mouth was beside her ear.

"You're making a scene, Olivia..." he whispered. "I'll take you home and you can change. Come on. You know you'd rather be in jeans and a sweater anyway."

Olivia turned to look him in the eye with a hatred that burned her beautiful features into something wicked. Elliot had never seen that hatred directed at him before. She reserved it for rapists, pedophiles, the demons that she had devoted her life to purging from this earth. It chilled his bones, and he felt angry with himself for being the enemy, but this was for her own good. She would see that eventually.

"Please," he begged.

Her expression changed into something Elliot couldn't quite place, a mixture of anger, confusion, sadness and pity. She looked down at her bare feet, then back at Elliot.

"Fine," she spat. She leaned down to put her heels back on, then walked to the door without looking back at him. She waited at the elevator, staring at the down button on the control panel fixed to the wall. Elliot came up beside her, shrugging into his coat. He punched the call button and stepped inside the lift, then pressed the button for the parking garage. Olivia trailed behind him. They stood in silence, exiting the elevator when the doors opened. They walked to the car together and Elliot turned to her.

"I'm sorry, Liv. You're right. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."

Olivia stared at him blankly. He shifted uncomfortably, playing with the keys in his hand.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me what happened that's fine. It's your business. I'm sorry I even brought it up. But please, talk to me."

"Elliot, it's freezing out here. Just start the car." Olivia walked around to the passenger side of the sedan, opened the door, and slipped inside.

Elliot stood playing with the keys a moment longer, staring at the spot where she had just been standing. He opened the driver's door, joining Olivia inside the vehicle. He slid the key in the ignition and started the car. They sat silently while it warmed up. Elliot pulled out of the garage a few minutes later and drove to Olivia's building. He parked on the curb and followed her to her apartment. She unlocked the door, tossed her keys, coat, and clutch on the couch, and walked to her bedroom.  
>"Have you eaten yet, Olivia?" Elliot asked.<p>

"No," she replied. "I haven't even been able to pee yet, Elliot." She closed her bedroom door.

He walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and surveyed its shelves. One carton of baking soda. "Liv, you don't have any food."

"Gee, Elliot, really?" she sassed, sliding her feet out of her shoes, unbuckling her gun belt, and wiggling out of the tight dress.

"What the hell do you eat?" he called.

"Take-out. Delivery. Whatever I have a menu for. Get out of my fridge, Elliot." She walked to her dresser and removed a pair of black panties from the top drawer, slid them over her hips before choosing a pair of black slacks, her red top, and black jacket. She dressed quickly, re-buckled her gun belt, grabbed a pair of socks from the underwear drawer and her black high-heeled boots from her closet, and walked back out into the living room. She sat on the couch, stuffed her feet in the boots and zipped them up. She emptied the contents of her clutch into the black handbag she had left on the couch the night before.  
>"Hey, Elliot, do we have time to -" she began, but stopped when her partner's cell phone rang.<p>

"Stabler."

Olivia pulled a comb from the purse and brushed her hair back into a ponytail that she fixed with a black elastic.

"Yeah," Elliot said into the phone. "Okay. We'll be there in twenty." He snapped the phone closed. "The results for the skin found under Jen's fingernails came back," he said, looking down at the closed phone in his hands.

"Great!" Olivia chirped, standing. "And?"  
>"Olivia..." Elliot began.<p>

"Whose is it?" she pressed.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked, not looking up at her.

Olivia felt her blood run cold.

"Elliot, what the hell are you talking about?"  
>"How did you get that bruise, Liv?"<p>

"I told you it's none of your damn business, Elliot. Whose DNA is it?"

Elliot put the phone in his pocket and met her eyes.  
>"Yours."<p>

**10:55 A.M.**

**NCIS Headquarters**

Ziva entered the bull-pen carrying a tray of coffees and a bag of breakfast food items. She set them down on her desk carefully and pulled two cups out of the tray.

"Tony, what is that around your neck?" McGee asked, laughing.

Ziva looked over at DiNozzo and saw the ridiculous thing he'd chosen to complete his outfit for the day.

"Oh, come on, McGeek! This tie looks awesome on me!" Tony tightened his Windsor knot.

"I think it is quite charming," Ziva stated, setting one of the cups on McGee's desk.

"See?" Tony shot at McGee, smirking. "Thank you, Ziva."

"The ugly little elves remind me of you," she replied, holding the other cup out to Tony, who smiled sarcastically at her before snatching the coffee from its place on his desktop.

"What have you got on the missing marines, McGee?" Gibbs barked, walking into the bullpen. Ziva hurried back to her desk and grabbed the third coffee to hand to Gibbs.

"Uh, The Sergeant General is 45, drives a black Twenty Eleven Dodge Avenger, license plate Kappa, Zorro, One One Five, Gamma, Alpha. He's never been married, lives alone, and has a dog named Fargo. A black lab actually," McGee read.

"And the Colonel?" Gibbs asked, retrieving his coffee from Ziva and taking a sip.

"She's 36, drives a light blue 2009 Honda CR-V, license plate Four Four Six, Hector, Laura, Beta. Divorced, has a five year old son named Cassidy who lives with her and her sister, Jaclyn."  
>"What do we know about the sister and ex-husband, McGee?"<p>

"Uh..." McGee paused, looking over at Gibbs.

"What do we know, McGee?" Gibbs repeated, angrily.

"The sister is named Jaclyn Veller, age 33; she has never been married and has lived with her sister for over a year now," Ziva supplied. "The ex-husband is named Connell MacLean, born in Scotland in 1972, age 39. He currently lives in Big Stone Gap, Virginia. He has lived there for the past three years, before that he lived with his ex-wife in Quantico on base. It appears she requested the divorce after he hit her over the head with a beer bottle, causing her to require five stitches. Naturally, sole custody was awarded to the mother."

Gibbs slapped McGee in the back of the head before turning to Tony.

"How did our perverts get onto the base, DiNozzo?"

"They used the stolen ID Badges to bypass security." Tony turned the plasma screen on, displaying the images on the ID Badges opposite the images of the dead. "Apparently they look enough like our missing marines that nobody suspected anything fishy."

"How'd they end up dead, Tony?" Gibbs demanded.

"That, I believe, is Duckie's duty, boss," Tony replied, leaning back in his rolling chair and propping his feet on his desk.

"Then go ask him, Tony!" Gibbs shouted.

"Yes, boss!" Tony scrambled to his feet, knocking his chair over.

Ziva stifled a grin.

"Ziva!" Gibbs barked, walking toward the elevator.

"Yes, Gibbs?"

"Go knock on Director Sheppard's door. Tell her to meet me for lunch in a half an hour at that Italian place up the street."  
>Ziva looked curiously at McGee, who frowned.<p>

"Don't you usually-"  
>"Now, Ziva!" Gibbs shouted, his back to her.<p>

Ziva jumped. "Understood!" She waited until the elevator doors closed, then turned to McGee.

"Is there something going on that I should know about, McGee?"

"Not that I know of." He shrugged; his phone rang. "Lemme know what you find out!" he replied before answering it.

Ziva nodded and walked up the stairs to the Director's office.

**11:00 A.M.**

**Bellevue Hospital**

Jennifer lay in her hospital bed looking up at the ceiling. She recognized that detective, Olivia Benson, from somewhere. She'd been racking her brain for hours trying to place it, but she couldn't recall where. The doctor had told her that she was doing quite well and would be cleared to leave the following morning. She was getting restless. She needed to be back at her desk, working her abduction case. A Marine Corp Colonel's son was missing and she'd seen the woman's ex-husband, Connell MacLean outside the pub that night. He was in the suspect pool for her case. She looked at the clock on the wall. _Shit._The kid had been missing for 23 hours already. He didn't have much sat up slowly, wincing. She needed to call Jethro, tell him to follow up on it. She took a few deep breaths, steadied herself, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

The bullet-wound in her left side throbbed angrily. She clenched the side of the bed, her knuckles turning white. Her head swam.

_**The cold wind whipped the falling snow around her. Her gut ached. She couldn't sit up, couldn't speak... Someone was coming down the alley, a woman. The stranger leaned over her.**_

"_**Oh, my god." The woman reached into her pocket, pulled out a cell phone and made a call. When she'd finished, she put the phone back in her pocket, then grabbed Jen's coat, held it over the wound, pressing down hard. "Ok, sweetie, stay with me! I've got EMS on the way." **_

_**A sharp pain ripped through Jen's body- she reached out with her left hand, gripped the woman's right thigh. The woman was saying something else, something she couldn't hear over the deafening roar in her ears. She looked up, into the stranger's big brown eyes. She clenched the woman's leg tighter as another wave of pain hit.**_

Jennifer's eyes flew open. It was Olivia. Olivia had been the woman in the alley. She had saved Jen's life. But how had she known to look there?

The director shook her head. This was not the time to worry about that. She needed to put the flashback behind her for the moment. She slid off the edge of the bed slowly, touched her feet to the floor. She had to get to her purse. She had to call Gibbs, tell him about MacLean's kid, and then get the hell out of here. Then she could deal with Olivia Benson.

**11:08 A.M.**

**Manhattan SVU Squad room**

Olivia and Elliot arrived back at the bullpen exactly twenty minutes after Elliot had hung up the phone.

"I'm going down to talk to Warner," Elliot stated.

"I'm coming with you," Olivia replied.

"No. You stay here."

"Benson! In my office," Cragen called from his door frame.

"Elliot," Olivia began.

"Now!" Cragen bellowed.

Olivia pursed her lips and walked into Cragen's office. Cragen shut the door behind them.

"Sit down," Cragen growled. Olivia sat in the chair across from his desk.

"What the hell is going on, Olivia? How the hell did your DNA get under our vic's nails?"

"Captain, I can explain."

"Then start talking."

Olivia looked down at her lap and began picking at her nails.

"Now, Olivia!"

"I was there."

"What?"

"I was in that alley, with Jen. Before the paramedics got there."

"You'd better have a damn good reason for even being at that bar, Detective."

Olivia began to cry.

"I had a blind date. I was there with him, in a booth and Jen was sitting at the bar. The date wasn't going very well. He couldn't keep his hands to himself. I told him off, and he left. I stayed a little while, long enough to see Jen get up and stumble to the door. A guy came up behind her and they left together. A few minutes later I heard screaming. I went outside to investigate, saw a trail of blood and followed it." Olivia paused, shaking. "Jen was lying on top of a heap of garbage, bleeding from a gunshot wound in the gut. I called 911 from my cell, applied pressure to her wounds. She freaked out, grabbed my thigh and dug her nails in. When she lost consciousness, I went back into the bar and cleaned the blood off of me. I left her there in that alley. "

She finished speaking and sat silently. She wiped her eyes with her jacket sleeve.

Cragen eyed her.

"And that's it?"

Olivia nodded.

"If I ask Jen about it is she gonna corroborate or am I gonna hear another version?"

"She'll tell you the same thing, Captain."

They sat together silently.

"Okay." Cragen stood. "Go home. Pack your things."

Olivia stood slowly. "Why?"

"Your vic's cleared to return to work tomorrow in D.C. and I want you with her. You're all going." Cragen opened his office door.

"What about I.A.B.?" Olivia asked.

"They've been told to look the other way."

"By who?" Olivia asked, startled.

"Your vic is the director of NCIS. She works in Washington D.C., Olivia. Somebody in D.C. wants Director Sheppard's case solved yesterday, and I, for one, am not about to question it when somebody in Washington starts pulling strings for my detectives."

Olivia wiped her face again and nodded. She walked past him.

"And Liv..."

She turned to face him. "Yeah, Cap'n?"

"Next time, don't flee the crime scene with the vic's hand print on your leg. It looks really, really bad."

Olivia gave him her half-smile.

"I won't."

**11:11 A.M.**

**Manhattan SVU**

**Morgue**

"So, this is definitely Olivia's DNA?" Elliot asked.

"I'm afraid so," Melinda Warner replied, peeling the latex exam gloves from her hands.

"Great," Elliot muttered, crossing his arms.

"Look, Elliot, I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this," Warner soothed. Elliot walked over to the wall, slammed his palm against it. "Elliot, she's your partner. You know her better than anyone else here." Warner walked over to the evidence photographs, collected a few and held them up to Elliot's face. "Do you think she did this?"

Elliot stared at the photos intensely.

"If I were you, I'd choose your answer very carefully."

Elliot turned around; saw Olivia leaning against the wall in the hallway with her hands in her pockets.

"Hey. How did it go with Cragen?" he asked.

"Not bad, actually." She pushed herself off the wall. "We gotta get going though."

Elliot eyed his partner. Her eyes were red and puffy—she'd been crying.

"Ok." Elliot turned to the M.E. beside him. "I guess I'll see you around, Warner."

Melinda had also been eyeing Olivia. Now she turned to face Elliot.

"Yeah… See you around, Elliot."

The two detectives walked to the elevator together.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Elliot asked without looking at his partner.

"There isn't all that much to tell." Olivia pressed the up button to call the elevator. "I was in that alley. I'm the one who made the 911 call." She stepped into the lift. "I tried to stop her bleeding, and when she passed out, I left her there to go in to the pub and clean up. When I came back out you were there."

Elliot stepped in behind her.

"Why were you at the pub in the first place?"

"I had a blind date."

"Ah. How did that go?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"It sucked."

**Chapter 2 is done! What do you think? R&R! Be honest please!**

**I made some editing changes to the chapter...to all of them, really. **

**Any ways,**

**Any questions or comments, PM me!**

**Ok, loves…I leave you again to begin work on Chapter 3.**

**XO, J**


	3. Dodging The Bullet

****DISCLAIMER: I don't own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. That'd be Dick Wolf and NBC. I also don't own NCIS. That'd be CBS. I'm just borrowing the characters, and I promise to return them by midnight, fed, clean, and unharmed. Mostly.****

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****Before ****you ****begin, ****I ****want ****to ****supply ****you ****all ****with ****a ****piece ****of ****information ******critical ******to ****this ****chapter. ****Just ****trust ****me; ****it ****will ****come ****in ****handy ****later.**

****Dissociation ****is an altered state of consciousness characterized by partial or complete disruption of the normal integration of a person's normal conscious or psychological functioning.[1]Dissociation is most commonly experienced as a subjective perception of one's consciousness being detached from one's emotions, body and/or immediate surroundings.[2] Van der Kolk et al.[3] describe dissociation as a "compartmentalization of experience." Under normal conditions, consciousness, memory, emotions, sensory awareness, affect, etc., are integrated; with dissociation, in contrast, these traits are discretely compartmentalized to greater or lesser degrees.

Dissociation describes a wide array of experiences that can affect any aspect of a person's mental functioning.[4][5][6][7] Although some dissociative disruptions involve amnesia, other dissociative events do not.[8] At one end of a continuum, dissociation describes such common events as becoming lost in thought while driving a vehicle and not recalling parts of the journey. At the other end of the continuum are a cluster of dissociative disorders, such as dissociative amnesia, that can occur in response to severe psychological trauma such as rape or military combat. In such cases of abuse or trauma, dissociation can be regarded as a coping mechanism to help with an overwhelming experience.[9]

Since dissociations are normally unanticipated, they are typically experienced as startling, autonomous intrusions into the person's usual ways of responding or functioning. Due to their unexpected and largely inexplicable nature, they tend to be quite unsettling. Different dissociative disorders have different relationships to stress and trauma.[10] Dissociative amnesia and fugue states are often triggered by life stresses that fall far short of trauma.[11][12]Depersonalization disorder is sometimes triggered by trauma, but may be preceded only by stress, psychoactive substances, or no identifiable stress at all.[13] The ICD-10 but not the the DSM-IV classifies conversion disorder as a dissociative disorder.

**SOURCE:****Wikipedia ****Page ****on ****Dissociation  
>Unfortunately, <strong>**for ****some ****reason, ****the ****link ****won't ****show ****up ****here. ****Stupid ****thing. ****Anyhow...**

**Now ****that ****that ****is ****out ****of ****the ****way, ****happy ****reading!**

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><p><strong>11:20 A.M.<strong>

**NCIS Headquarters**

Ziva flew down the stairs and slammed into a man walking up carrying a stack of folders.

"Are you alright?" she asked, walking down the steps backwards.

"Fine..." the man replied.

Ziva jumped over the railing and landed like a cat. She ran to McGee's desk and hung up the phone that he was still chatting on.

"Where is Gibbs?" she asked hurriedly.

"Uh, Ziva..."  
>"McGee!" she snapped, closing her eyes.<p>

"Ziva-"  
>"Where. Is. Gibbs?"<p>

"You just hung up on him."

"Then get him back!" Ziva snapped, thrusting the handset back into McGee's hand.

"What the hell is going on, Ziva?" McGee asked.

Ziva walked away from him, to her desk.

"The director, she is never late, yes?"

"Uh..."

"Yes or no, McGee?"

"As far as I know, she's never late."

"And she always reports to work, yes?"  
>"She harasses Gibbs at some point or another every day, so yeah."<p>

Ziva punched the partition behind her desk.

"What, Ziva?"

"Her secretary, what is the woman's name?"  
>"Jen's secretary? I don't know. They change so often."<br>"Yes, her. She said that Director Sheppard left for Manhattan yesterday, was due back this morning. She never returned."

"Ziva, she's a grown woman. She's probably caught in traffic." McGee replaced the phone in its cradle.

"She flew, McGee. She was also supposed to check in at oh-800, which she did not do. Something is wrong, McGee, I can feel it. In my...my..."

"Gut?" McGee supplied.

"Yes!" Ziva sat at he desk. "That. She is not safe. I can feel it in my intestines and lower organs."

Ziva's desk phone rang. She answered it on the first ring.

"What?" she snapped, then cleared her throat. "NCIS, Officer David."

"Ziva, what the hell is going on?" Gibbs yelled.

"Gibbs!" Ziva looked over at McGee. "Something is wrong."  
>"Yeah, I got that! I'm sitting here in traffic and I get a call from Director Sheppard." Ziva could hear a very loud car horn. She assumed Gibbs was leaning on his. "She's at a hospital in Manhattan, Ziva."<br>"Hospital? Is she alright?" Ziva asked, pulling her gun out of her desk drawer. McGee frowned and reached for his weapon.

"Would she be in a hospital if she was Ziva?" Then to someone else, "Move it already!"

"I suppose not."

"I want you to pull everything you can on Connell MacLean and his son, Cassidy. I want to know exactly where the father was, 2 am yesterday morning."  
>Ziva wrote this all down on a notepad on her desk. "Got it."<p>

"And Ziva!" Gibbs shouted.

"Yes, Gibbs?"

"GO!" He barked before severing the connection. Ziva placed the phone in its cradle.

"What's going on, Ziva?" McGee asked, grabbing his go-bag.

"The director is in a hospital in Manhattan." Ziva picked up her bag and holstered her weapon. "Gibbs is in traffic, and you need to look up everything we have and don't have on Connell MacLean and his son, Cassidy."

"Where are you going?" McGee asked.

"Not now, McGee." Ziva began jogging to the elevator.

"What do I tell Tony?"

"Tell him to help you!" she shouted, slipping in to the elevator before the doors could close.

"Yeah." McGee mumbled to himself, sitting back in his chair. "Tony's gonna help me." He threw his go-bag back in the bottom desk drawer and slammed the drawer shut. "I'm his favorite guy."

**11:25 A.M.**

**Olivia Benson's Apartment Building**

Elliot pulled up to the curb outside Olivia's building and Olivia stepped out.

"I'll meet you back here in an hour?" she asked, leaning down to speak to her partner.

"You got it!" he replied. She shut the door and he pulled away.

Her whole body ached as she climbed the steps to her building. She wanted to just crawl into bed and stay there. But she had to worry about Jen. She rode the elevator to her floor and picked up a UPS package that was left in front of her door, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. She unlocked the door, walked in, shut the door behind her. She placed the package on the kitchen island with her keys and purse, kicked off her shoes and pressed the play button next to the flashing light on her answering machine.

_BEEP_

"_Hey, Liv, it's Casey. It's ten A.M., Wednesday... Just calling to check in, catch-up." _

Olivia walked to her bedroom and pulled a large wheeled Prada suitcase out of the closet. Casey drew in a heavy voice on the voice mail.

"_Ok, I lied. I got a call from your date, he said something happened, that he had to go to the hospital for a gunshot wound. Olivia, what the hell happened? I need you to call me back. I'm worried about you."_

Olivia took several pairs of panties from her drawer and threw them all into the suitcase angrily. Casey would have to wait.

_BEEP_

"_End of messages."_

_BEEP_

She pulled slacks and blouses down from their hangers in the closet and threw them in to the case with the underwear. She returned to the drawer with undergarments and pulled out bras. She dumped those in as well, then reached into the closet again and pulled out a pants-suit, still in its plastic dry-cleaners covering. She laid it on the bed beside the case, and walked back to the kitchen. Her phone rang. She ignored it, let it go to voice-mail.

"_You've__reached__Olivia__Benson.__Leave__a__message__after__the__beep.__"_  
><em>BEEP<em>

"_Yo,__pick__up__the__phone,__Liv!__It's__Fin!__"_

Olivia turned her back on the machine, too tired to deal with his antics. She opened a cabinet above the sink and pulled a bottle of scotch and a glass.

"_Come__on,__Liv,__I__know__you're__in__there,__pick__up__the__phone.__Jen__Sheppard__just__called__lookin'__for__you,__said__she's__got__an__emergency.__"_

Olivia put the glass down, ran to the phone, picked up the cordless handset, pressed the green send button to answer the phone.

"Fin?"

"Liv!"  
>"What happened?"<p>

"She just said to call her back on her cell number, said it was an emergency."  
>Olivia rummaged through her purse, found a pen, but no paper.<p>

"Uh... ok, what's the number?"

"212-555-3465."

Olivia wrote the number on the back of her hand.

"Ok, thanks, Fin."  
>"Yeah, no problem. And Liv?"<p>

"Yeah?"

"You good?"

Olivia smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"Good. Cuz Novak is here and she's mad worried about'choo."

Olivia frowned.  
>"Tell Novak to mind her own damn business."<br>"I heard that, Detective!" Casey's voice yelled.

Olivia held the phone away from her head, staring at it incredulously.

"Oh, yeah. Liv, you're on speaker phone," Fin said, the smirk obvious in his voice.

Olivia scowled.  
>"Screw you, Fin," she snapped before putting the phone back to her ear.<p>

"Come on, Liv, it was a joke!" Fin stated, laughing.

"It's not funny. And Novak!"

"Yes?" the A.D.A. replied.

"Call me back so we can talk. Leave the peanut gallery at home!" Olivia barked, stabbing the end key and placing the phone in her back pocket. Olivia returned to the scotch on the counter, shaking. She pulled 3 ice cubes from the icebox and dropped them into the glass, poured half a glass of scotch for herself and tried to steady herself while nursing the drink. When the phone rang 3 minutes later, she answered it.

"Yeah..."

"It's Casey."

"Hi." Olivia took a sip from her glass, walked to the bedroom to resume packing.  
>"So?"<p>

"So what?" She set the glass on her dresser top, slid her shoulder up to hold the phone against her ear while she packed socks and belts.

"Don't play games with me, Benson. What the hell happened last night?"

"He got too handsy." She held a pair of black socks up to the light, making sure they matched.

"So you shot him?" Casey asked, angrily.

"No, Casey, I didn't shoot anyone. He's lying to you." She replaced one of the socks; dark blue and black did not match.

"Olivia, he's got a gunshot wound in his shoulder." Casey was nearly yelling now.

"He had that when he walked in to the bar," Olivia stated calmly. "Hey, I have a question."  
>"Oh, come on, Olivia. You expect me to believe that he sat in a bar with you, bleeding from the shoulder and you just sat there? That doesn't sound like you."<p>

"Really? Cuz I gotta tell ya, Casey, when I say no and somebody keeps pushing me, all empathy goes out the window," Olivia snarled. "I have to finish packing. I'm going to D.C. with our vic tomorrow and I have to meet Elliot in forty minutes."

"Olivia what do you mean, 'when I say no and somebody keeps pushing me'? Did he try to rape you?"

"Casey, I really have to go." Olivia looked at her watch.  
>"Olivia, answer the damn question!" Novak shouted.<p>

"No, Casey, I won't answer the question. I hold you responsible."  
>"Me? What the hell did I do? You sat at a pub with him!"<p>

"I'm gay, Novak, you know that. You set me up with a man. Don't try to make this my fault," Olivia spat.

Casey laughed cruelly.

"Oh, wow. You know what? I'm glad he did what he did. Oh, and by the way, Olivia, I didn't know you were a lesbian. If I had known, I sure as hell wouldn't have been caught dead associating with you in public."  
>"Fuck you, Casey."<br>"You wish!"

Olivia threw the phone against the wall and screamed. Where the hell did that pretentious bitch get off, talking to her like that? She hated Casey. Hated her! Well, that wasn't entirely true. The prosecutor's words hurt to the extent that they did because (although, as far as she could remember she'd never admitted this to anyone) she was in love with the woman. Olivia felt like Casey had ripped her heart out through her stomach, stomped on it with her Gucci heels, then tried to sew it back improperly. And the best way to get back at her was to pretend that it didn't bother her. Olivia stormed to her dresser, drained her glass. Fine. Olivia threw her clothes in the suitcase, zipped it up rather violently. The zipper cut her palm. She swore and stuck the bleeding flesh in her mouth, sucked on it a while. Then she lifted the case, hauled it to the door. She had to talk to Jen in person. She looked at her watch. It was a 17 minute cab ride to Bellevue and she had 38 minutes until Elliot got there to pick her up. She scrawled a quick not to him explaining where she'd gone, grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door.

**11:43 A.M.**

**Bellevue Hospital, Room 582**

Jennifer stood in her room, gazing out the large window on her wall. She had a hand clutched to her side. Her cell phone rang. She snatched it up, checked the caller ID and answered.

"Ziva?"

"Director! Are you alright?" the Israeli yelled.

"Calm down, Agent David, I'll live."

"Are you hurt?"

"It's just a gunshot wound. I—"

"A gunshot? What happened?"

"Ziva, I'm a big girl! I can handle it! I need you to calm down. I have to get in touch with someone here in Manhattan, and she won't answer her phone. Her name is Detective Olivia Benson and she works-"

"I work in the Manhattan SVU, 16th Precinct."

Jennifer jumped, turned too quickly; she crumpled to the floor. Olivia was immediately by her side, helping the smaller woman back to the bed.

"Director?" a woman's accented voice called from the phone.

"Tell her...I'm alright..." Jen panted, cringing. She was white as a sheet.

Olivia nodded, got the woman situated on her bed and lifted the phone to her ear.

"Director?" the woman cried frantically.

"Hello?" Olivia began.

"Who is this?"

"This is Detective Benson; I'm sorry, I must have startled Jen- she turned too quickly and tired herself out. She wanted me to tell you that she's alright."

"If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill you myself!" the woman began in English, then continued in what sounded like some Middle Eastern language. Olivia wasn't familiar with it.

"Ma'am, I don't speak-"

"Je vais démolir vous ouvrez l'aide d'une carte de crédit et dessiner sur les murs de votre sang! Je peux vous assassiner seize manières différentes en utilisant un trombone, salope arrogante! Vous avez irrité un guerrier du Mossad et maintenant vous allez payer cher!" the woman screamed in fluid French. Olivia made out most of it. Something about a credit card and using a paper clip to murder her in 16 different ways, writing on the walls in her blood. Olivia fumed.

"Ma'am, I understand enough French to get the main idea, and I don't like it when people threaten my life, and I do not like your tone! I'm not gonna stand here and-"

"Bon! Je veux que vous comprenez! Je veux que vous tremblez de peur sachant que je vais vous traquer comme le renard vous êtes!"

That one she understood completely. _"Good!__I__want__you__to__understand!__I__want__you__to__tremble__with__fear__knowing__that__I__will__hunt__you__down__like__the__fox__you__are!"_

"Is she...screaming at you?" Jen panted, her color returning. Olivia nodded. Jen smiled slightly and reached her arm out to take the phone. Olivia handed it to her, not wanting to tire the woman more, but certainly more than happy to get this lunatic's ravings away from her ear.

"Ziva..." Jen chided.

"Director! I am coming to get you," Ziva stated firmly.

"No... Ziva, I am returning to…Washington tomorrow."

"I am coming to you now."

"No. Ziva, sit tight. And stop...threatening the people we...are going to be working...with."

"I am going to be working with that...that..." Ziva sputtered angrily.  
>"Detective." Jen managed, attempting to adjust her pillows. Olivia reached up and adjusted them for her.<p>

"That is not what I was going to call her."

"Well, that is her...position. And you are going...to be working closely...with her, so I suggest you...get over it. Fast." Jennifer hung up the phone before Ziva could protest further.

"She gets angry...easily...I apologize. She's one hell of an agent...but very pro...tective of her friends."

"She's an agent?" Olivia asked, surprised.

"Yes. Agent Ziva David. Former Mossad Liaison," the woman replied, a smile creeping across her lips.

"Dah-veed?" Olivia murmured. "Where is she from?" she asked a little louder.

"Israel. Born in Beer Sheva."

_So__she__was__screaming__at__me__in__Hebrew.__Great,_Olivia thought. _Munch__would__love__that._ She cleared her throat, then brought up the reason she'd arrived.  
>"My co-worker, Detective Tutuola, told me that you had an emergency you needed to discuss with me?"<p>

Jennifer's beautiful green eyes clouded. She looked down at her hands.

"Yes." She cleared her throat as well, winced. "You...were in that alley. You found me."

Olivia looked down at her shoes, nodded, then realized the smaller woman couldn't see her. "Yeah...yes."

"How did you know...I was in that alley?"

"I heard screaming; I followed the trail of blood I saw, and found you."

"Detective..."

"Yes?"

"The man who forced me out of the bar...he said that you were there with...the man that had his son."

Olivia snapped her head up.

"What?" she breathed.

Jennifer stared hard at the woman before her, then spoke again.

"His son, Cassidy. Five years old. He's missing...and you were eating with...his abductor."

**12:01 P.M.**

**Olivia Benson's Apartment**

Elliot knocked on the door to his partner's apartment again and waited outside for her to answer. He stood there for a few minutes, then called out to her.  
>"Benson! You in there?"<p>

No answer. It wasn't like her to break an agreement.

"Liv!" Still nothing. "Alright, I'm coming in," he called. He pulled a key out of his pocket that she had given him back when she was working undercover with the FBI. He'd argued that someone had to get in and check the mail while she was gone, and she'd finally agreed to let him do it. Really, he just wanted an excuse to check in on her when she got back. He was glad now that he did. He slid the key into the lock and opened the door.  
>"Olivia? It's Elliot!" Still no answer. He stepped into the apartment, tripping over an overstuffed Prada suitcase sitting by the door. He fell to the floor, his palms smacking against her hardwood floors. He looked up at the offending object angrily, and caught a glimpse of something red on its zipper. He pulled the case closer and sat up to inspect it more thoroughly. Blood? Shit.<p>

"Olivia!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. He ran to the bedroom and found the cordless handset shattered at the baseboard by her window. His heart raced as he ran back to the kitchen where his frantic gaze fell on the note, scribbled quickly on the back of a Chinese takeout menu.

_Elliot-_

_took a cab to see Sheppard at Bellevue. meet you at my place around 1. sorry for leaving you hanging!_

_xoxo, O_

He was going to kill her. She'd scared the shit out of him! He didn't know whether to laugh or punch a hole in her wall. He slammed the note back down on the table. He saw a simple package on the island addressed to her, then noticed there was no return address. He put it with her suitcase. A little red light blinking caught his eye. He stepped over to the answering machine and fidgeted for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to press play. Olivia's machine had been broken last he knew; it recorded every phone conversation instead of just voice mails. He shrugged his doubts away. By know she must have gotten it fixed, right? He pressed the play button.

"_Yeah...__"_ Olivia's voice rang through the room.

He jumped, looked around. She wasn't there. Ok, so it was still broken. No harm in listening to the whole thing, right?

"_It's__Casey,__"_ the self-assured A.D.A.'s voice stated.

"_Hi.__"_ Olivia again. There was a pause; Elliot thought he could hear ice cubes against a glass. A drink, so early in the day? Finally, Casey spoke.

"_So?"_

"_So__what?__"_

A small thud, like glass on wood.

"_Don't__play__games__with__me,__Benson.__What__the__hell__happened__last__night?__" _the A.D.A. growled.

"_He got too handsy." _

Elliot stiffened.

"_So__you__shot__him?__"_ Casey's voice asked, angrily.

"_No, Casey, I didn't shoot anyone. He's lying to you." _

"_Olivia,__he's__got__a__gunshot__wound__in__his__shoulder.__"_ Casey was nearly yelling now.

"_He__had__that__when__he__walked__in__to__the__bar,__"_ Olivia stated calmly. _"__Hey,__I__have__a__question.__"_

"_Oh, come on, Olivia. You expect me to believe that he sat in a bar with you, bleeding from the shoulder and you just sat there? That doesn't sound like you." _

Elliot agreed with Novak, it just didn't seem like Liv at all. He was curious to hear Olivia's question, but neither of the two women seemed to want to get back to that right now.

"_Really?__Cuz__I__gotta__tell__ya,__Casey,__when__I__say__no__and__somebody__keeps__pushing__me,__all__empathy__goes__out__the__window,__"_ Olivia snarled.

Elliot felt an angry fire burning in the pit of his stomach. Who the fuck was this guy?

"_I__have__to__finish__packing.__I'm__going__to__D.C.__with__our__vic__tomorrow__and__I__have__to__meet__Elliot__in__forty__minutes,__"_ Olivia was saying.

"_Olivia__what__do__you__mean,__'when__I__say__no__and__somebody__keeps__pushing__me'?__Did__he__try__to__rape__you?__"_

Elliot clenched his fists.

"_Casey, I really have to go."_

"_Olivia,__answer__the__damn__question!__"_ Novak shouted.

"_No, Casey, I won't answer the question. I hold you responsible."  
>"Me? What the hell did I do? You sat at a pub with him!"<em>

"_I'm__gay,__Novak,__you__know__that.__You__set__me__up__with__a__man.__Don't__try__to__make__this__my__fault,__"_ Olivia spat.

A cruel laugh, almost a cold cackle, filled the air. Elliot's anger burned hotter and he had to fight to keep from driving down to the D.A.'s office and smashing Novak's face in.

"_Oh,__wow.__You__know__what?__I'm__glad__he__did__what__he__did.__Oh,__and__by__the__way,__Olivia,__I__didn't__know__you__were__a__lesbian.__If__I__had__known,__I__sure__as__hell__wouldn't__have__been__caught__dead__associating__with__you__in__public.__"_ Something inside Elliot snapped.  
><em>"<em>_Fuck__you,__Casey.__"_  
><em>"<em>_You__wish!__"_

The phone conversation cut short with a high-pitched shriek. Elliot assumed that Olivia had thrown the phone at the wall angrily. It was all Elliot could do to keep from throwing the machine as well.

He ran to the door, grabbed Olivia's suitcase, package, and the note she'd left, and rode the elevator down to his car. He was going to find Olivia and find out just what had happened in the bar that night. And if she wouldn't tell him, he'd go to Novak and kick her around until he felt better. She was acting like a perp, one of the low-life slime-balls she worked so hard to put away. Well, that was how he was going to treat her. She'd crossed the line this time. Olivia was hurting, needed a friend, and the one woman she had ever told Elliot that she had feelings for (albeit inebriated-ly) had just revealed her closeted homophobia. Well, she could go fuck herself. Or step in front of a bus. Who was he kidding? She was like the un-dead in his kid's horror films. Even if she did step in front of a bus, she'd probably just re-form her bent and broken body and come back to haunt them forever. When the elevator reached the first floor, he carried the suitcase up the block to where he'd parked and loaded it into the trunk alongside his own luggage. He shook his head. Why didn't Olivia use her Mustang to go to Bellevue? And why hadn't she driven it to work this week? Who was that package from?

He slammed the trunk closed. He'd ask her when he got there, he decided. He got into the car and pulled onto the street, heading northwest toward Broadway, Bellevue, and, hopefully, some answers.

**12:05 P.M.**

**NCIS Headquarters**

Ziva walked back into the bullpen, shaking.

"Hey, Ziva!" DiNozzo yelled. Ziva ignored him. "What's the problem? Put on the wrong panties this morning? Got a stick crammed in your ass? Did the bakery ran out of Falafel? You just found out they discontinued Berry Mango Madness?" He gasped and leaned over his desk. "I got it! The director has a new pet project!" He slapped his palm against his desk top and laughed at his own joke.

Ziva pulled her gun out of its holster, strode over to his desk and cocked the weapon before holding it level with Tony's head.

"It was just a joke, Ziva," Tony stammered, his eyes on the black metal.

"And I am not in the mood, Tony," she replied coldly.

"I can see that." Tony swallowed hard.

Ziva held the gun there for a moment or two, her hand eerily steady.

"Ziva, just put the gun down, and we can all talk about this." McGee soothed, rising from his desk, his hands held in front of him, palms out in a display of surrender. "Trust me, I want him dead as much as you do, but we need him. He's our senior field agent." He saw Abby step out of the elevator and shook his head almost imperceptibly at her. She snuck quietly over to a cubicle out of Ziva's line of sight and crouched down.

Ziva stared at Tony.

"Do you know why I am angry, Tony?" she asked after a moment of tense silence.

"Not a clue," he replied wincing when she pressed the gun to his forehead.

"I am angry because I was just on the phone with Director Sheppard. It seems that she was shot. She requests my help in finding someone who refuses to return Sheppard's calls, stops abruptly and the phone clatters to the floor. Then, a horrid woman comes on the line, and, wouldn't you know it, it is the bastard who refuses to call our Director back. She states that Jen wants me to know that she is alright. I became angry."  
>"Understandably so," Tony conceded.<p>

"I began to yell at her in Hebrew, threatened her. She called me 'Ma'am'! Twice!" Ziva was trembling again. Abby peeked around the partition she was hiding behind.

Tony, Abby, and McGee all cringed. Ziva hated being called "Ma'am". McGee inched closer to her, hoping to take the gun from her before she did any real damage.

"She told me she didn't understand me. I began screaming in French. Told her I would rip her open with a credit card and write on the wall in her blood. I told her I could kill her sixteen different ways with just a paper clip! She had the nerve to tell me that she didn't appreciate my tone. I told her I was going to hunt her down like the fox she was and kill her myself." Ziva laughed, almost maniacally. "Then Director Sheppard comes back on the line. She tells me that we are to be working very closely with this woman, and I might as well get over it now."

"What is 'it', Ziva?" Tony asked, still eyeing the Sig Sauer she had trained on him.

"That is what I would like to know!" she stated. McGee was close enough to touch her now. He smelled whiskey. Ziva kept her eyes on Tony and spoke to McGee.

"McGee, if you touch me I will shoot him right now. Then I will shoot you."

McGee froze. Abby put a hand to her throat.  
>"Probey! Help!" Tony whispered audibly.<p>

"You're in control here, Ziva. I don't have my gun and Tony isn't stupid enough to try anything." McGee took another step toward the Israeli woman, his hands in plain sight. "Let's just put the gun down and talk about this like civilized adults."

Ziva snorted. "Civilized! Do you hear this Tony? Now I am being uncivilized. Poor Israeli Mossad girl, not used to the American ways!"  
>"He's crazy, Ziva. He has no idea what he's saying." Tony laughed. "Probey!" he hissed.<p>

"Come on, Ziva. You don't want to do this," McGee warned, stepping closer again.

"Ah. See? There you are wrong, McGee. I do, very much, want to do it." Ziva pressed the gun harder into Tony's forehead. "I have wanted to do it since we met, in fact." She pulled the gun away from him, though it was still pointed directly between his eyes. "But I won't," she murmured.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief and McGee took another step forward.

"Give me the gun, Ziva."

She turned to look at McGee. There was so much pain in the woman's eyes. He knew she would not cry in front of him. "I promise you, I only want to help. Just give me the gun and we can all walk away."

Ziva began to shake a little harder, if that was possible. She pointed the weapon at the floor and de-cocked it. She placed the weapon in McGee's hands and ran to the women's bathroom, her head down.

Abby leapt out from her hiding place and ran after her, glaring at Tony on the way by.

"What?" he snapped. He turned to look at McGee. "What the hell was that, Probey?"  
>"I have no idea, Tony. I think she finally cracked."<p>

Abby pushed open the bathroom door and found Ziva leaning on the counter with both hands, staring at herself in the mirror. Abby stood in the door frame, waiting.

"You may enter..." Ziva said quietly.

"Ziva..." Abby began. "Are you ok?"

"No, I am not ok. I am a Mossad liaison who just pulled her sidearm on her partner and threatened to kill him." Ziva wiped a tear from her face.

"I'm sure you didn't mean it, Ziva. People say things they don't mean sometimes," Abby offered, walking towards the woman she cared about, though did not yet consider her friend.

"That is just the problem, Abby. I did mean it. I meant every word."

Abby was silent. She perched on the edge of the counter.

"And you are not good at sneaking about, Abby." Ziva wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I heard those clunky boots of yours as you scurried past."  
>The two women laughed, then sat silently for a moment.<p>

"Did the director really get shot?" Abby asked quietly.

"Yes," Ziva responded, almost inaudibly.

Abby studied the muscular woman beside her. She recognized the expression on Ziva's face almost immediately. It all made sense now! Her reaction to the director's disappearance, to the detective on the phone when she thought Jen was in danger, then to Tony's mean-spirited joke about a pet project.

"Ziva...are you in love with Director Sheppard?"

Ziva lowered her gaze to the Formica counter top and balled her hands into fists.

"I don't know what I feel, Abby." She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and stood slowly. She crossed her arms and began to pace the tile floors, back and forth in front of Abby. The action reminded the forensic scientist of a caged animal. She thought she caught a whiff of whiskey when Ziva passed by, but she couldn't be sure.

"Cuz it's ok if you do. I mean, I think it's really sweet," Abby offered, smiling and wiggling her hips on the counter top.

Ziva paused, looked at the other girl.

"You do?"

"Yeah! I think it's totally rockin' awesome that you and Director Sheppard might have a chance together." Abby rolled her eyes and leaned forward. "And that detective lady was waaaayyyy out of line!"

Ziva chuckled. Yep, definitely whiskey.  
>"Thank you, Abby." She uncrossed her arms. "That means a great deal to me."<p>

"Anytime," Abby said happily. She reached out to give Ziva a hug. This time, the Israeli did not flinch. In fact, Abby was pretty sure she felt the woman hug her back.

**12:15 P.M.**

**Bellevue Hospital**

Elliot pulled the car into the valet spaces and handed his keys off to a young man.

"You want it parked close or far, mister?" the kid asked, snapping his gum.

"Close. And spit that gum out. You look like a moron," Elliot barked at the boy, who just rolled his eyes.

"What ever you say, old man," the kid muttered under his breath.

Elliot heard, but chose to ignore. He entered the revolving doors and walked into the lobby. He took the elevator to Jennifer's room and flashed his badge at a woman sitting at the nurses station.

"I'm supposed to meet my partner here. Detective Olivia Benson."

The nurse checked a list of visitation records.

"Oh, yeah." The woman sounded like she'd been raised in New York and had never left. "She was just here. Lemme see..." The woman turned in her chair to speak to a woman behind her. "Jackie! Where'd that detective go?"

"Who, Ms. Benson?" the other nurse replied in a thick Southern drawl.

"Yeah, her."

"Ms. Benson is in the cafeteria gettin' food for Ms. Sheppard."

"There you go."

"Great. Thank you, ladies." Elliot smiled.

"Anytime, sweet cheeks," the New Yorker replied, winking.

Elliot walked away from them and took the elevator back down to the cafeteria. It was very busy. He found Olivia sitting at a table in a far corner, elbows on the table, nursing a cup of coffee, and shaking. He slipped into a seat beside her. She sighed heavily; he could smell the scotch on her breath.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. She shook her head.

"You wanna talk about it?" he prodded.  
>She rested her forehead on her palm.<p>

"My blind date was a kidnapper, Elliot."

Elliot exhaled loudly.

"Wow."

"Yeah. And I should have seen it."

"There's no way you could've known Liv. What, did he say, 'I have a kid tied up in my trunk'?"

Olivia snorted. "Not quite."

"What did he say, then?"

"It wasn't he said. More what he did. He was creepy, Elliot."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"How old's the kid?"

"He's five. His name is Cassidy. The guy that led Jen into the alley told her I was dining with his son's abductor, and she thought I was involved."

"In the shooting or the kidnapping?" Elliot asked.

"Both, I guess." Olivia raised the Styrofoam cup to her lips and took another sip. She looked up at her partner. "You all packed?"

He nodded. "I grabbed your suitcase and that UPS thing you left on your island." He chuckled. "I gotta tell you, Liv, you scared the shit out of me. Blood on the zipper of your bag, the phone smashed in a corner? I didn't even see the note until I was ready to call in the hounds."

Olivia laughed, looked back down at the table.

They sat in silence for a bit.

"Olivia...I listened to the phone conversation between you and Casey."

"You did what?" Olivia looked up at him again, angrily.

"I thought maybe it was a voice mail from Cragen about the plane tickets. I assumed you'd gotten that thing fixed, so I pressed play."  
>"And you just kept listening?" she shrieked, shoving herself away from the table.<p>

"Olivia, listen-"

"Elliot, you can't go into someone's apartment and listen to their private phone conversations! I can't believe you would-"

"Olivia, I'm worried about you," he interrupted her. "You smell like scotch, you don't drive your Mustang anymore, and you won't talk to anyone."

She stared at him.

"What happened between you and that guy in the bar? Did he...touch you?"

Her eyes clouded.

"Elliot, I don't want to talk about it."

"After what happened to you at Seal View, I would think you'd want to get this out."

Olivia lowered her head.

"Did he touch you?" It was formed more as a statement than a question.

Olivia mumbled something he couldn't hear.

He lowered his ear to her face. "I didn't hear that, Liv."

She looked his squarely in the eye and repeated herself slowly.

"Go. To. Hell." She ripped her arm out if his grip and walked away from him. He kicked himself mentally. He'd pushed too hard. He ran after her.  
>"Liv, wait," he called to her.<p>

She didn't turn around, didn't slow down. She consulted a list in her pocket, grabbed a plastic tray and began filling it with food. She chose a basket of fish sticks and some nachos from the hot foods section, then moved on to the desserts.

Elliot put a hand on her elbow. She shrugged it off and selected a fruit, yogurt, and granola parfait, placing it on the tray.

"Liv."

She moved on to the coffee bar and refilled her own cup before pouring a cup of hot water and choosing an Earl Grey tea bag for Jen. Elliot selected some sugar packets and cream cups and deposited them in the upper right corner of the tray. She put them back in the basket he'd pulled them from.

He stepped in front of her. "Look, I'm sorry, ok?"

She turned her body to slip around him sideways, heading for the cash register.

"Olivia, wait!" He grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her to face him. Something changed in her face; she dropped the tray and swung at him, barely missing his cheek. A group of people had turned at the clatter of the plastic tray on the floor and a man in a security uniform rushed over to them, reached out for Olivia.  
>"Wait!" Elliot shouted at the man, ducking another blow. He held a hand palm out to the man. "Don't touch her!"<p>

The man looked confused. "Sir, I have to-"

"Just wait!" Elliot shouted again. Olivia's eyes were open, but un-seeing, a dark and stormy reflection of her panic; he'd seen that look before, when she had been questioning a perp and he slammed her into the wall. She had snapped then, too, kicking and punching the man, forcing him into a ball on the floor. Afterward, Huang had told them that she'd dissociated. That the best way to help her was to use grounding techniques, remind her that she was safe.

"Olivia, look at me!" He ducked another blow. "It's me! It's Elliot, your partner!"

"Sir?" the officer called, stepping toward them.  
>"Just wait!" Elliot snapped. "Olivia, come on. You're here at Bellevue hospital, in the cafeteria." Olivia lunged at him, missing widely and slamming into a metal cooling rack. One of the shelves cut her, a small ribbon of blood beading on her collarbone. "You are safe, Liv! No one is going to touch you." He motioned to the security guard to back away. By now a rather large crowd had formed around them and the guard hesitated briefly before falling back to join them.<br>"What's your badge number, Olivia?" Elliot asked, ducking another blow. "Come on, Liv! What's your badge number?"

Olivia stopped swinging and stood in a defensive position.

"Elliot..." she mumbled, her eyes slowly returning to their natural color. "Four...four zero, one five," she said, a little clearer this time.

"That's right, Liv. Where are you?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

Olivia's shaking slowed somewhat.

"Where are you?" Elliot repeated.

"Bellevue."

"That's right, you're at Bellevue. You're safe here, ok?" He took another step forward. Olivia nodded slowly. Elliot glanced up the security guard, who turned to the crowd behind him.

"Alright people, move on! Nothing to see here, show's over!" He announced. The crowd began to thin as people reluctantly returned to what they'd been doing. Elliot stepped forward again, not wanting to set her off.

"You're bleeding," he stated, motioning to her chest. "Can I help you clean it up?" Another nod. Elliot pulled a tissue from the small packet in his pocket and reached up slowly to dab at the cut. She blanched at his touch, but allowed him to continue wiping the drooling blood.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah, Liv?"

"We're gonna have to get more food."

He smiled. "Yep."


	4. Consequences

****DISCLAIMER: I don't own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. That'd be Dick Wolf and NBC. I also don't own NCIS. That'd be CBS. I'm just borrowing the characters, and I promise to return them by midnight, fed, clean, and unharmed. Mostly.****

* * *

><p><strong>12:32 P.M.<strong>

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Room 582**

Elliot and Olivia walked together to Jennifer's room; Elliot was on the phone with Detective Munch.

"Ok," he was saying. "Yeah. Yeah. No, don't worry about it. No, we'll take care of it. Yes, Munch, I'm sure." He rolled his eyes at Olivia. She smiled.

"Munch, I'm pretty sure we can handle it. Yeah, I know the government can be crafty." Elliot rolled his eyes again. "No, I don't have any experience with NCIS. John, I gotta go. John. I'm hanging up now. Goodbye, John." Elliot closed the silver cell and stuffed it into his coat pocket.  
>"Anything important or did he just call to complain?" Olivia asked.<p>

Elliot scratched his ear. "A little of both. We have a flight chartered from JFK to Reagan National in Virginia. It takes off tomorrow morning at four, so we should be there by one."

Olivia groaned.

"I know," Elliot conceded. "Hey, at least you're all packed. John doesn't know whether to pack for a week or the end of days. He's been calling everyone on the squad, asking if he should bring space blankets."

"I don't blame him." Liv motioned with her head to the door of room 582.

"I'll just be a minute."

"I'll be here," Elliot stated, leaning against the wall.

Olivia balanced the new tray of food on her knee and knocked on the door jamb of Jen's room.  
>"I brought your lunch, Jen."<p>

"Come in," Jen replied. Olivia stepped inside. "You can set it on that...rolling nightstand." The red-head pointed behind Olivia to the adjustable hospital lap table. Olivia set the tray on it rolled the food over to the smaller woman.

"The paper work is all done. We have a chartered flight leaving JFK at four A.M. so you can be at work for seven. We're going to pick you up at midnight so we can get to the airport on time."  
>"Am I allowed to leave that...early?" Jen asked.<p>

"You can leave at midnight, but no earlier," Olivia said, smirking.

Jen wrinkled her nose.

"I brought you everything on your list," Olivia pointed out, opening the containers.

"Thank you." Jen tore open the tea bag's wrapper and placed the bag into the hot water. "How much did it cost?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Please, let me repay you."

Olivia frowned. "It's the least I can do, Jen. I left you alone in that alley."

Jennifer laid a hand firmly over Olivia's, stopping her from opening the parfait.

"Detective, you saved my life." She paused for a moment. "Let me pay for my own lunch."

"No," Olivia stated firmly, looking up at Jen.

"Stop being stubborn."

"No."

"Well, at least let me...open the rest of the food."

Olivia looked down at the tray. Everything but the parfait had already been opened. She drew her hand back and let Jen open the dessert. After quite a bit of struggling and cursing on Jen's part and some frustration and more cursing on Olivia's part, Jen finally managed to get the container open. She lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes.

"Do you think that going back to D.C. tomorrow is a good idea, Jen?" Olivia asked, crossing her arms.

The director of NCIS opened her eyes and looked quizzically at the detective.

"Are you implying...that I should stay here and let...a five year old boy stay... with his abductor?"

"No, I just think that perhaps another day or two of rest would be better than flying out to Washington in your current condition."

"Don't try to change my mind...Detective. I am going...back to work tomorrow."

Olivia furrowed her brow, but did not argue further; there was no point. Jen's stubbornness was only matched by Olivia's own.

"I have to head to headquarters. Are you gonna be ok here until my partner and I pick you up?"

Jen nodded. "Thank you, Olivia." She raised a chip laden with toppings to her mouth.

Olivia smiled. "No problem, Jen. I'll see you later then."

Jen nodded again, her mouth full of nacho cheese.

The detective walked out into the hall to join her partner, who was on the phone again. Olivia waited beside him, her hands in her pockets.

"Ok. I'll let her know. Thanks." He closed the phone.

"Well aren't you just the social butterfly." Olivia joked.

Elliot snorted derisively.

"Did Munch decide not to bring the safety flares?"

"Actually, that was Novak." Elliot began walking.

"What did she say?" Olivia asked, coolly.

"She said she got a weird phone call. Some kid called, said he was being a good boy, being very patient, and that she should tell 'the man' not to be angry. He hung up before she could ask him anything."

"Well, did she get a number or a trace on it?" Olivia asked, anxiously.

"The call came in from a restricted number; TARU is tracking it now."

"Elliot," Olivia put a hand on his arm; they stopped walking. "What if Cassidy made that phone call?"

"We'll find him, Liv," Elliot reassured her. "We'll find him."

**12:35 P.M.**

**NCIS Headquarters**

Ziva sat at her computer, researching the fastest way to cook felafel at home so that she could bring Tony an apology gift. A message popped up on her screen and her computer made a chiming noise.  
><em>1<em>_New__Message.__Read__Now?_

Ziva clicked "Yes".

_I don't know what happened, and I don't need to know. Neither does Gibbs. _

_-Tim_

Ziva looked over at McGee; he was typing away furiously on his keyboard.

She clicked the reply link and began composing a message.

_Thank you, but I believe that I should take responsibility for my actions and accept the consequences, whatever they might be._

She clicked send and returned to her research. The chime sounded again.

_You'll be fired and then there won't be anyone here to keep Tony in line._

_He needs the occasional Sig to the head. Gibbs won't hear it from me._

Ziva looked over at McGee again. This time he looked up at her.

She clicked reply again.

_What about Tony?_

McGee snorted, typed another message. Ziva's computer chimed.

_If he tells Gibbs about this, he'll have to explain his comment about a pet project. Then he gets in trouble. He may be stupid, Ziva, but he's not that stupid._

Ziva stifled a grin, clicked reply.

_Perhaps you are right. What about Abby?_

McGee typed a response quickly. Another chime.

_Abby was in her lab. End of story._

Ziva was confused.  
><em>I<em>_do__not__understand.__Abby__was__hiding__behind__a__wall._

McGee gave Ziva a pointed look, then typed his reply.

_Abby will say that she was in her lab. She programmed her computers to back up the story. You don't have to worry. It never happened._

Ziva read the message, then sighed.

_Thank you McGee. I will probably regret this later, but for now I thank you._

_I am in your debt. How can I repay it?_

McGee read her reply, then fidgeted uncomfortably. His hands hovered over the keyboard a moment before he shut his monitor off.  
>"You don't," he said aloud. Tony looked up.<p>

"Talking to yourself, McGeek? Maybe we should get you a plant."

Ziva laughed. Tony looked at her, surprised, then at McGee, who shrugged.  
>"You laughed at my joke, Ziva," Tony sputtered.<p>

"It was funny, Tony," she replied matter-of-factly.

"It was funny," Tony parroted.

"Yes."

"My joke was funny." Tony turned to look at McGee. "My joke was funny?"

"I didn't think so," McGee replied.

"Neither did I," Tony mumbled, eying Ziva warily.

"That makes three of us, DiNozzo," Gibbs proclaimed, walking into the bullpen.

"Well, I thought it was witty, Tony," Ziva said cheerily. "And charming." She supplemented. The three men looked at her, dumfounded, shocked, and more than a little concerned.

"What?" She asked, defensively.

"'Tony' and 'charming' just came out of your mouth in a form that did not include the words 'far from', 'not at all', or 'never will be'," McGee stated. "That's what."

"Even I'm scared, now," Tony quipped.

Gibbs eyed the woman with an odd expression before turning to Tony.

"Scared is good, DiNozzo. Keeps people in line. What did you get from Ducky?"

"Uh...well, boss..." Tony began.

"Did you even go, Tony?" Gibbs barked.

"Yeah, I went! But Ducky wanted-"

"To tell you in person, Jethro," the Scotsman finished, entering the bullpen.

"Tell me what, Ducky?" Gibbs snapped, still glaring at Tony.

"My initial assessment of the two dead we found on the base in Quantico was…shall we say, incorrect."

"Yeah, we covered that already, Duck," Gibbs replied. He looked over at his friend.

"No, I mean that I was incorrect when I assumed they were not civilians because of their fingerprints; or lack thereof. It seems that the prints were burned off."

"And how'd you get 'burned off' from no fingerprints?"

"Oh, I didn't," Ducky replied.

"Then who did?"

"Abby did. She pointed out that the pads of their fingers were uncommonly smooth, silky almost. She also pointed out a very similar burn on her own thumb and forefinger from attempting to remove a hot pan from the oven without a potholder."

"Okay, so how do we know they didn't both reach into an oven and grab hot pans?" Tony asked.

Gibbs slapped him in the back of the head.

"They have no fingerprints, Tony. Not some fingerprints, not a few fingerprints. No fingerprints. It's just not possible."

"Yeah, but boss—" Gibbs slapped him again.

"What part of 'it's not possible' was unclear to you?" Gibbs asked.

"Actually, Jethro, it is entirely possible," Ducky interjected. Tony smirked. "However, it's highly unlikely."

It was Gibbs' turn to smirk.

"The pattern of removed prints is much more consistent with someone holding their hands against the surface of a glass topped stove." Ducky mimed placing his hands against a flat surface.

"Wait." Ziva held up her left hand. "I am confused. Someone held their hands against a hot surface to burn away their fingerprints?"

"It appears so, Ziva," Ducky replied.

"Why would someone do such a horrible thing?"

"Well, I don't know, Ziva, let's think about that. Why would someone torture another human?" Gibbs retorted.

"To obtain information," McGee answered.

"Thank you, McGee," Ziva snapped.

"Anytime."

"What I do not understand, McGee," She shot him an icy look. "Is why they would remove the fingerprints? Why would someone do something as horrible as trying to protect the identity of two sexual predators?"

"Now that is an excellent question, my dear," Ducky murmured. "That is an excellent question, indeed."

**12:36 P.M.**

**SVU Headquarters**

Olivia walked to the coffeepot and lifted it. It was empty. She rubbed her eyes blearily, and then opened them again.

"Trying to make the coffee reappear?" Elliot joked.

"Who drank it all?" she asked, reaching for the can of Maxwell House grounds.

"This really pretty detective with long brown hair and gorgeous eyes to match," Elliot replied, smiling.

Olivia opened the can, and swore loudly.

"What's the problem?" Elliot looked over her shoulder at the empty can. "Ah. I'll get my wallet."

"No, Elliot, I can buy my own damn coffee," she snapped, putting the can back down.

"I'm just trying to help, Olivia."

"Well, don't," she growled. She spun quickly, storming through the empty bullpen back to her desk. She reached out to grab her purse from the bottom drawer. Her right sleeve slid up and Elliot saw long, dark marks on her wrist. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, angrily.

She tried to pull away.

"Elliot," she warned. "Let go."

"No. Not until you explain to me what the hell is going on with you!"

She raised her other hand to pull at his, and Elliot saw a set of matching marks on the other wrist. He reached up with the other hand and gripped her left wrist.

"Are you hurting yourself?" he yelled.

"No!" She yelled disgustedly.

"Then what?" Elliot asked. "Is someone else hurting you?"

She paused. "No."

Elliot pulled her to him, lowered her tone. "Olivia…Is someone hurting you?"

She didn't answer. Elliot felt his rage bubbling in his gut.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Elliot, stop." Olivia's voice broke.

"Who is it?" he asked again.

"Let go, Elliot!" She was crying now, fighting to pull away.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" he roared.

"Stop it!" she begged. "Please, just stop!"

"Tell me who it is!"

"He isn't hurting me now!"

Elliot froze.

"He? Olivia, who is it? Who did this?"

Olivia's knees buckled; Elliot held her as she sobbed.

"Olivia, what happened to you?"

She didn't answer at first. Then, after a few minutes, her hiccupping slowed.

"About five months ago, someone broke into my apartment." She sniffled. "They stole a few things, unimportant things. A photograph of my mother and me, some jewelry. I didn't report it because it wasn't a big deal." She pulled back. Elliot helped her sit in her chair at her desk and went to the water cooler to fill her mug with water.

"A month later, I was on my way to work. I stopped at a coffee shop. When I came back out, someone had slashed my tires and left the photo on the windshield with the word 'whore' written across my face. I was angry, but didn't report that either. I just got myself to work and buried myself in cases."

Elliot handed her the mug and crossed his arms.  
>"Thank you." She sipped from the cup. "Then, three months ago, some guy followed me home from a bar." She set the mug down. "When I got into the apartment building, I took the elevator up to my floor…When I got to the door, he was there. Waiting. He…put a hand on my rear. I shoved him, he punched me in the gut. He pulled my gun off of my belt, held it to my head. He forced me…to the bedroom...used my cuffs to...secure my hands to the headboard…" She paused here, trying to gain control of her shaking voice. She rubbed her wrists absent-mindedly.<p>

"He ripped my slacks off…I fought him, but he hit me. He cocked the gun, put it in my mouth, and he… raped me."

Elliot felt his fury build again. He restrained himself and just let her finish.

"When he was done, he made me shower…told me that if I told anyone, he would kill me. I was in shock…my hands were still cuffed. I let him wash me. I let him wash away all evidence of my assault, Elliot." She sat quietly for a bit, sipped the water again. "He left money on the island for me, told me I had been a good girl…He un-cuffed me, asked me for a kiss…when I refused he slapped me again. After he left, I went to the bedroom and bagged all my bedding. I scrubbed every inch of that room until my head swam and my eyes stung from all the fumes. Everywhere I go, I see his face. Whenever I unlock my apartment door, my heart pounds and I can't breathe." She looked up at her partner.

"Why didn't you say anything? Press charges?" he asked, running his hands over his hair.

"I let him ruin my life. And now, I want it back. I want my independence. I want to find him, so that I can ruin his. If I get the court involved, then he goes to jail, where he's protected by steel bars."

"And where he can't hurt you again!" Elliot shouted.

"Let me handle this my way!" she shouted back. "I know what I'm doing."

Elliot turned and eyed his partner carefully, working his jaw.

"What happened in the bar last night, Liv?" he asked.

Olivia looked down at the desk top.

"Did that guy hurt you, too?"

"No," she closed her eyes. "He tried." She smiled weakly. "I shot him in the shoulder."

Elliot looked down at his shoes. "You told Casey he had that wound when he got to the bar."

Olivia didn't answer.

"What did you do with him afterward?"

"Well," she started, rising from her chair. "I crammed him into the backseat of my Mustang, cuffed him to the car door and I drove him to hospital. I un-cuffed him and dumped him in front of the emergency entrance, and went back to the bar."

"Is that when you found Jen?" he asked.

Olivia paled. "No."

"Well, when did that happen?"

Olivia mumbled something he didn't hear, but before he could ask her to repeat herself, her cell phone rang. She opened it and cleared her throat before answering and walking to the women's bathroom.

"Benson…"

"Yes, Hello, this is Doctor Roger Keller over at Bellevue Hospital. How are you felling, Olivia?"  
>"Hi, Doctor. I'm feeling fine." She pushed the swinging door open and let it close behind her.<p>

"Good, good." There was a pause.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Olivia asked.

"Actually, this is something that I really should tell you in person. If you could come down to the hospital, then perhaps we could…" The doctor trailed off.

"Well, actually, doctor, I'm quite busy. The entire team is heading out to Washington D.C. with Jen Sheppard tomorrow and I have a lot of paperwork to fill out before I go. If it's something that needs to be face to face, I can come in when I get back."

"No, it's rather urgent. Are you sure you can't come in today?"  
>"Yes, doctor, I'm positive." Olivia frowned. "Why don't you just tell me over the phone?"<p>

The doctor sighed, then cleared his throat.

"Alright…well, I have your labs here. You asked me to call you if anything new came to my attention…"

Olivia waited for a time, but the doctor didn't finish.  
>"Doctor Keller, what is it? I really need to get back to work."<p>

"Olivia, you really should be here when I tell you this."

"Look, Doctor, either you tell me over the phone or you wait until I get back, but I can't leave." She was getting angry. "Now, either you tell me now, or I hang up and we do this later. I don't have time to play games."

"I'm sorry. I'll tell you the good news now then."  
>"What good news?" Olivia asked, exasperatedly.<p>

"You're pregnant. You're about three months along. Congratulations, Detective."

The phone fell to the floor and skittered across the tile. Olivia couldn't see. She felt like she was going to be sick. She pitched forward and hit her forehead on the counter. She curled into a ball on the tile floor where she'd fallen and screamed.

**12:38**

Elizabeth Donnelly walked down the hall to the SVU squad-room. She was on her way to speak to Olivia about Casey Novak. The A.D.A. was acting strangely and would only explain as far as mentioning Olivia's name. Liz didn't like games, and she sure as hell didn't have time to play baby-sitter. She walked past the women's bathroom and had only made it another foot before she heard a woman scream—

She ran back and shoved the door open. Detective Benson was laying on the floor a few feet from her cell phone, with a bruise on one cheek, a cut on the other, and a newer, nasty cut on her head. She was shaking.

"Olivia?" The Judge gasped, kneeling in her ivory colored skirt suit. She assessed the cut on the younger woman's head, and then stood to grab paper towels. She noticed a small line of blood on the edge of the counter and turned away from it, pressing the wad of paper towels to Olivia's head gingerly. "Olivia, its Donnelly. Can you hear me?"

Olivia moaned, wincing under the towels.

There was a pounding on the bathroom door.  
>"Olivia!" Elliot's voice called.<p>

"Elliot, in here!" Liz called back.

Elliot threw the door open, his gun out in front of him. When he'd checked the stalls and was satisfied that they were clear, he holstered his weapon and crouched down beside his partner.  
>"Liv? Come on, Liv, talk to me!" he yelled. He looked at the older woman beside him. "What the hell happened in here?"<p>

"I just got here," she replied stiffly, lifting the paper towels to monitor the bleeding. It was still bleeding quickly. She replaced the towels and nodded in the direction of the counter. "It looks like she cracked her head on that."

"Olivia!" she called again. "Can you hear me?"

Olivia groaned again.

"Yes, I can hear you. Stop prodding it," she rasped, lifting a hand to stay Elizabeth's.

Elliot let out a breath.

"Olivia, what happened?" Liz asked.

"I fell." The detective winced. "Let me up..." She rolled over and Elizabeth helped her sit up.

"Liv, I really think you should-" Elliot started, reaching a hand out to her.

"I'm fine, Elliot." Olivia stood slowly, shakily, and walked to the counter. Elliot and Elizabeth walked behind her with their arms extended, ready to catch her if she wavered. She examined the cut on her forehead in the mirror.  
>"It's not as bad as it looks," Liz reassured her. Olivia raised a shaky hand to touch it. Liz noticed the marks on Olivia's wrist and looked over at Elliot. He ignored the blonde.<p>

"Liv, what did the doctor want?" he asked his partner.

Olivia's eyes darkened. She lowered her hand.  
>"Just wanted to check in," she murmured, then turned around. "We should get back to the squad-room."<p>

Elliot put an arm out for her to steady herself on. Olivia ignored it and took a few wobbly steps before pitching forward again.

"Whoa, whoa!" Elliot yelled, wrapping his arms around her waist and catching her. Elizabeth gripped Olivia's upper arm.

"You alright?" Elliot asked, helping Liv right herself.

She leaned against him and took a steadying breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She looked at him sheepishly. "Could you..."  
>"Walk you to your desk?" Elliot finished for her. "You're not getting over there without my help, whether you want me to help or not."<p>

Olivia smiled. They walked together back to the bullpen, Liz following closely behind.

Munch and Fin were already back at their desks. Fin was going through John's suitcase and laughing at the "precautionary" things his partner had packed. When Olivia walked in, leaning on Elliot, John tapped Fin on the arm and pointed in their direction.

"What the hell?" Fin muttered. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Elizabeth hurrying along behind them in her skirt and heels. "Donnelly! Wha'djoo do to our Liv?" He asked, standing quickly.

Liz leveled him with a cold glare matched in icy rage only by the ones so expertly doled out by Alexandra Cabot. Fin wondered if that was where the Ice Queen had learned the expression. Olivia led Elliot to her desk and tried to sit, but Elliot held her so that she couldn't.  
>"Wait, wait. You need to get that checked out."<p>

Olivia frowned.  
>"I don't want to get it checked out. I want to finish this form and go take a nap in the crib, then go pick up Jen at Bellevue." Olivia tried again to sit.<p>

_Jen?_Liz thought to herself. _Surely__not__Jennifer__Sheppard._

"No, Olivia, I really think you should get it checked. Come on, I'll take you myself." He began to guide her back to the door.

"No! Elliot, let me sit!"

"Why don't you just have Warner check it out?" Munch offered. Olivia glared at him and Elliot stopped tugging.

"No," she snapped.

"Olivia, you're getting it checked," Elliot stated. "Now, your options are Bellevue or Warner. It's your call."

"Getting what checked?" the M.E. called, walking into the room with a file in her hand. Elliot turned Olivia carefully so they faced Melinda, who drew a sharp breath through her teeth. "How did you manage that, Olivia?"

"I fell," Olivia muttered.

"On what?" Melinda asked, her eyes wide. She stepped forward and brushed Olivia's hair out of the cut.

"She whacked it on the bathroom counter," Elliot answered.

"Ow." The M.E. looked it over briefly. "Alright, it doesn't look too bad. You should come down to the lab so I can clean it up."

"I came all the way down here so that I could talk to her," Liz interjected angrily.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait," Melinda replied simply. "Or, if Olivia doesn't mind, you can come with us."  
>"No!" Olivia shouted. Everyone in the room looked at her, surprised at her sudden outburst. "I mean, I need to ask Melinda something, and I want to do it alone."<br>Elizabeth pursed her lips. Something was going on between Olivia and Casey, and she intended to find out what.

"I guess I'll come back later, then," she said quietly, then turned on her heel and clicked out of the room. Melinda stepped over to take Elliot's place beside the woman and handed Elliot the folder. "I'll need Elliot to take the file then," she said to Olivia. "He can review it and fill you in when we're done."  
>Olivia nodded.<br>"You don't need my help?" Elliot asked, his eyebrows raised.

"No, I've got her. I was in the Air Force, Elliot. I did plenty of heavy lifting in my day," she said, smiling at Olivia. The two women walked together to the elevator and rode down to the morgue.

"What did you want to ask me?" Melinda asked quietly.

"Let's just wait until we get to the lab," Olivia whispered back.

Once Olivia was settled in a chair and Melinda had the necessary tools at hand, she asked again.  
>"What did you want to ask me?"<p>

Olivia took a deep breath.

"Um...it's about abortions."

Melinda froze in the middle of dabbing Olivia's cut with an alcohol swab.

"I wondered...when the deadline for a legal one was," Olivia finished.

"Well..." Melinda hesitated, returning to the task at hand. "In New York, abortion is legal during the first trimester."

Olivia licked her lips before continuing.

"Does that mean that someone who is three months along can consider it as an option?"

"Yes, it does." Melinda tossed the swab into the bio-hazard container beside her and picked up a small package of antibacterial ointment. "Do you know someone who is looking into abortion, Olivia?" she asked, not looking at the brunette sitting in front of her. Olivia shifted uncomfortably.

"Melinda..." she whispered, wringing her hands in her lap.

The M.E. looked over at her friend.  
>"Three months ago, I was raped," the detective finished.<p>

Melinda's jaw dropped.

"Oh, my god. I'm so sorry."

Olivia flinched.

"Are you pregnant, Olivia?" Melinda asked, leaning down to lay a hand on the detectives knee.

Olivia looked down at her hands and nodded.

Melinda felt her insides clench. This was not fair. Olivia had been brought into the world as a product of rape. Now she was facing the same problem.

"Does Elliot know?" Melinda asked quietly.

"No," Olivia stated violently. "No, and I don't want him to. He knows I was assaulted because I just told him." She wiped a tear from her cheek gingerly. Her cheekbone still hurt.

"When did you find out?"

"Um...right before I hit my head. The doctor called. I had to walk away from Elliot to talk. I went to the bathroom and when he told me I was...pregnant..." Olivia wiped another tear from her cheek. "I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn't see. I tipped forward and the counter was in the way."

Melinda wiped some of the ointment onto the cut gently, then covered it with a set of butterfly stitches.

"I don't think abortion is the answer here, Olivia."

"I don't either," Olivia replied. "I wouldn't be able to go through with it. I guess I just wanted to know my options."  
>Melinda nodded, slipping the gloves from her hands and tossing them into the bio-hazard container as well.<p>

"Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"I will."

"Do you want my help getting back upstairs?"

"No." Olivia stood carefully.

Melinda grinned. Olivia was so stubborn.

"Let me rephrase that- can you make it back upstairs without assistance?"

Olivia laughed weakly.

"Now you sound like Elliot. I'll be fine, Melinda."

"I'm going to follow you up, just in case," Melinda told the determined woman.

Olivia smiled again and began the walk back to the elevator.

"Melinda?" she said, once they were in the lift together.

"Yes, Olivia?"

"I don't want anyone else to know about...this. Not until I figure out what to do." Olivia was frowning.

Melinda turned to the detective beside her. She had never seen Olivia so unsure of herself; normally, the woman exuded confidence. She was a strong, independent woman who never showed any weakness. Melinda found it disconcerting. "I can keep it to myself, Olivia. Don't worry."

The doors to the lift opened and the two women stepped out.

"Good as new!" Melinda announced, following Olivia back to her desk. "Just don't let her push herself too hard, Elliot. She really ought to rest."  
>Elliot smiled. "You hear that, Liv? I'm not supposed to 'let' you do stuff."<p>

"Yeah, good luck with that one, Elliot," Fin ribbed. "This one don't take crap from nobody, least of all him," he said to Warner.

"Well, put her in a holding cell if you have to." Melinda turned to face the men.

Munch snorted.

"She'd kill herself just trying to escape. And, last I checked, that falls under 'pushing herself'."  
>Olivia rolled her eyes.<p>

"Alright, alright. All jokin' aside, Liv, for real. What the hell did you do to that counter top? It didn't just jump you!" Fin pointed out, plopping down on the corner of her desk.

"Yeah, what'd you do, arrest it's cousin, the breakfast bar?" Munch joined in.

"Nah, she tackled it's brother, the kitchen counter," Elliot joked.

"Guys, I didn't do anything like that," Olivia said, laughing.

"What was it then? Come on, girl, don't leave a brother hangin' in suspense." Fin looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

"Alright, fine. You really want to know?" she asked them seriously.

"Yeah!" Fin replied.

"Spit it out, already!" Munch shouted. "This cliff-hanger is killing me!"

Olivia's eyes twinkled.

"I told him I thought his personality was flat," she joked.

The men groaned.  
>"That was just plain corny, Olivia," Munch scolded, waggling his finger at her.<p>

"This from the King of Corny!" Elliot playfully punched the older man in the shoulder.

"Hey, if anyone should know a corny joke, it's me!" John walked around to his desk. "I have turf, you know? I have to make sure nobody encroaches on it."

"Old man, your turf is in crackpot conspiracy theories," Fin replied. "Ain't nobody competin' with you for that."

"Ah." Munch nodded. "Job security. It's what I aim for!"

Melinda smiled.

"I'll see you around, Liv."

"You got it," Olivia replied, waving to the taller woman.

"Hey, Liv. You still want that coffee?" Elliot asked, reaching for his coat and holding up the file Warner had handed him.

Olivia reached for her purse.

"Let's do it." She stood carefully.

"I'm driving," Elliot said, letting Olivia walk in front of him to the elevator.

"What, you think I can't drive in this condition?"

"I think you suck at driving in general and putting you behind the wheel now is about as good as signing my own death certificate." He retorted, pushing the down button.

Olivia punched him in the arm gently.

"Fine. Then I get to drive to Bellevue to pick up Jen."

"In what, your little Mustang? You won't fit the two of us in there comfortably, let alone the luggage, Munch, Fin, and Jen."

"I was going to drive the sedan," she replied.

"Not in your condition, you're not. And besides, I already rented a minivan."  
>The doors to the elevator opened and Elliot held the door to the building open for Olivia.<p>

She raised her eyebrow.  
>"You and a minivan?" She pulled her arms tighter around herself to ward off the winter chill.<p>

"I said I rented it, Liv. And so what if I did own one? I got kids. Dad's drive minivans all the time."

"Yeah, when their wife is out of town or makes 'em do it." Olivia chuckled.

Elliot opened the passenger door of the car for her.

"You know what, you are lucky I like havin' you as a partner, Liv," he replied, shaking his head.

"Face it Elliot, you love it," Olivia stated, sliding into the car.

_I__do._ He thought to himself as he closed the door. _I__do._


	5. Confessions

****DISCLAIMER: I don't own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. That'd be Dick Wolf and NBC. I also don't own NCIS. That'd be CBS. I'm just borrowing the characters, and I promise to return them by midnight, fed, clean, and unharmed. Mostly.****

* * *

><p><strong>1:28 P.M.<strong>

**Outside Starbucks**

**1378 Madison Avenue, New York, NY**

"Damn it, Olivia!" Elliot growled. How the hell had she managed to lose him? She was still woozy! He wasn't that out of shape. Was he? He checked his watch again. She'd gone to the bathroom as soon as they had arrived at the coffee shop, at twelve fifty-five P.M. She never came back out. Elliot started to get suspicious at five past one, but he let it go, assuming she was struggling because of her head injury. Yeah, right. At one-twenty, he'd gone to knock at the door of the one-seater bathroom, and found it empty. His first thought was abduction, but when he asked a Barista at the counter, the zit-faced teenage boy told him that Olivia had tipped him a twenty on her way out, telling the twerp not to tell Elliot that she'd left. She had ditched him! He'd punched out the left taillight of his car when the Barista smirked at him, joking about losing his piece of tail. So he'd called her, only to have the call go directly to voicemail. He was running out of patience and his hand was throbbing. When he found her, he was gonna teach her a serious lesson. This kind of thing had happened far too often, and there was no room for this kind of crap when it put her in danger. She was being stupid, selfish, and juvenile. He got into his car and called TARU. They could track her cell, as long as she hadn't turned it off. "Olivia, when I find you, I swear, with God as my witness..." He mumbled to himself as the TARU line rang. "You'd better just pray I don't find you."

**1:28 P.M.**

**Trinity Church Cemetery**

**770 Riverside Drive, New York, NY**

Elizabeth Donnelly pulled into the cemetery as quietly as she could, parking as far from her mark as she could. She'd tailed Olivia down to the lab with Warner and heard her confession. When Olivia and Elliot left to go get coffee, Elizabeth had followed them then, and was glad she'd followed the brunette here. She stepped out of her car and hid behind a tree at the top of the small hill at the foot of which Serena Benson was buried.

Olivia stood in front of her mother's grave, the cold winter wind whipping her hair across her face and nearly freezing her tears to her cheeks.

"I don't know what to do, Mom..." She began, wiping her nose on a tissue that Elliot had slipped into her pocket. "I swore that I would never...let what happened to you, happen to me." She made a short, satirical snorting sound. "And now, I am you." Her tears flowed with a renewed ferocity, burning tracks on her beautiful face. A sob racked her muscular frame. "God, how could I be so stupid?" She growled. "I hate this!" She bellowed. "I can't be you! I could never be you! I could never give birth to a piece of the Devil. Why didn't you just abort me? Why didn't you kill me when I was a child? Hell, why didn't I stay around when I was sixteen and you came after me with that broken bottle?" She finished, screaming now. She fell to her knees on the soft soil and laid her left fist across her stomach, sobbing loudly. Elizabeth felt tears pooling in her own eyes. Her heart went out to the desperate woman before her. Olivia was saying something again; she was speaking so quietly, the judge had to strain to hear her.

"I told Melinda Warner...I can't tell Elliot. I probably shouldn't have told him about the attack in the first place. He'll kill the son of a bitch before I can. I didn't tell him that the blind date I went on last night was with the man who did this to me." She paused. "He didn't even recognize me, Mom. He had no idea who I was. He had the balls to bring the pocket watch he stole from my apartment with him. I asked him about it and he bragged about the slutty woman he had slept with who paid him in 'watch', while he slipped a hand under the hem of my dress. I couldn't take it anymore. I led him out back, behind the restaurant and shot him in the shoulder."  
>Elizabeth's hand flew to her throat. The calmness Olivia spoke with scared her, but...with the hell this woman lived through, she didn't blame her. In fact, she envied her.<p>

"I dropped him off at the hospital Jennifer Sheppard is in. We're picking her up at midnight so we can get her back to Washington in time to start her next shift." She wiped her nose on her left sleeve this time, and laughed. "She's a real piece of ass, Ma. I wish you could see her. She'd make a perfect Mrs. Olivia."

Liz smiled. Jen had always been attractive.

Olivia sighed heavily. "Oh..." She lay down on her stomach, now prone over her mother's grave. "What's it like, Mom?" She whispered, her tears mingling with the earth and making mud. "Being dead?"

Now Elizabeth felt her skin crawl and her blood run cold. She stepped out from behind the tree.  
>"I forbid you from thinking like that, Detective." She called darkly. Olivia ripped her gun from it's holster and rolled over, pointing it, cocked, squarely at Liz's chest.<p>

"Donnelly, do not sneak up on me like that." She snarled, keeping the gun on the woman.

"I am truly sorry about your...condition, Olivia." She began the slippery climb down the snowy hill, lost her footing and shrieked.

The detective couldn't help but smile to herself. The sight of the extremely uptight and reclusive woman almost landing on her ass in this muck was too funny.

"That's why we don't wear pumps and a tight pencil skirt in the snow." She shot, watching the older woman struggling to her feet.

"Just get over here and help me!" Liz barked.

"And why we don't eavesdrop on private conversations between an emotional, pregnant, decorated detective and her dead mother."

"Oh, you can't be serious!" Liz roared. "Get over here!"

Olivia rose and replaced her sidearm, then strode confidently over to the older woman. She intended to milk this for all it was worth. The judge had managed to stop sliding by digging her toes into the side of the hill, flexing her gorgeous calves and thrusting her perfect ass out into the cold air. She had the snow bank in a death grip through her leather gloves and was panting from the effort of staying in this position.

"What's the magic word?" Olivia drawled, a smug look on her face. Her big brown eyes were taking in this ravishing sight, and she had to stop the muscle reflex of slapping the older woman's now prominent buttocks.

Liz twisted her head so she could glare at Olivia again out of the corner of her eye, those beautiful yet so different brown eyes narrowed.

"The magic phrase is sexual harassment. Help. Me. Up."

"No-ho-ho way." Olivia laughed, crossing her arms. "This is too good to waste."

Liz pursed her lips and lowered her gaze.

"I won't say it, Olivia. I'm not in your bedroom."

"I didn't stutter. Do it." She laid a hand on her former bed-mate's lower back and ran it down to her ass, eliciting a gasp and jump from the older blonde, almost causing her to lose her footing and land on her face.

"That's an order." Liv whispered forcefully and seductively in the woman's ear.

"Ma'am...help me up." The blonde replied weakly.

Olivia stepped back, wrapped an arm around Liz's waist. Liz jumped again.

"Oh, Olivia, I hardly think now is the—AH!" The judge was interrupted by Olivia's swift motion. The detective had managed to pull Liz up against her body and began backing down the hill carefully. Once they were standing together in front of Serena's grave, Olivia released the judge slowly, spinning her to face the headstone.

"Mom, this is Liz. She's a judge. Real spitfire. I had a hard time taming her...but it was worth it." Olivia smirked, wrinkling her nose. She poked Liz in the side. "Say hello. Don't be shy."

The judge was at a rare loss for words. She stood, mouth opening and closing like a fish. At a sharper poke from Olivia, she squeaked then managed, "Hello."

They stood together silently for a while before Liz spoke to the brunette.

"My legs are freezing."

Olivia smirked again and looked up at the sun, squinting.  
>"Should've worn pants, Liz."<p>

"For your information, Detective, I didn't have a clean pantsuit available. So wipe that shit-eating grin off your face."

Olivia looked down at Liz's feet.

"Should've worn boots, then. Or did you not have a clean pair of those, either?"

Liz looked down at her own feet, noticing their violent red color. She was surprised. She didn't even feel them!

"Can we go now?" She asked meekly.

Olivia stood, brooding silently for a minute. Finally, she bent down, kissed her fingertips and touched them to her mother's headstone.

"Bye, Mom..."  
>Elizabeth couldn't help but notice a fresh tear on her friend's cheek. She wrapped an arm around the strong detective's bicep.<br>"I'm going to need help getting back up the hill..." She murmured.

Olivia laughed. "I might just let you suffer."

Liz huffed indignantly, but smiled at Olivia. She was glad that she followed Olivia. Very glad.

**1:30 P.M.**

**NCIS Headquarters**

"Look, I'm just saying that people make stupid decisions and we don't always know why, Tony." Abby chirped quickly, nursing another Caf-Pow.

"Yeah, I know, but-" Tony stopped abruptly when Abby slammed the Caf-Pow cup down and clapped her hands fiercely over his shoulders.

"Tony! Stupid people make stupid choices! They say stupid stuff they don't mean! About felafel and underpants and sticks and pet projects and-"

"Yeah, Abby!" Tony shouted, frowning. "I get it! I was stupid, I said stuff I didn't mean!"

Abby frowned back and smacked him in the head, but did not replace her hands on his shoulders.

"No, you said stuff that was very mean. Very, very, very, very, very, very..." Abby didn't seem to be stopping her very long list of 'very's any time soon, so Tony clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I get it, Abby. How many Caf-Pow's have you had today?"

Abby shrugged then answered behind Tony's hand with "Gmmfumvvmfummoo-umfmmifmot!", but he was hard pressed to translate. He pulled his hand away.

"How many, Abby?"

"Gibbs-comes-with-a-new-one-for-me-a-lot!" She repeated, rapid-fire, commencing her trademark Caf-Pow induced Jumping Jack's.

Tony watched her bouncing.  
>"And how many has he brought you?"<br>"So-far?" She asked, jumping higher.

"Yeah, Abbs. So far."

"Ten!" She announced proudly, stopping her Jumping Jack's and sprinting in place instead.

"Wow." Tony replied, shocked. "That's, uh...That's a lot, Abby." He turned away and walked toward the open door.

"But-I've-drunk-at-least-eight-more-than-that!" She shouted, in the same machine gun style, a very determined look on her face. "Drank? Drunk? Drinked. Drunked!"

"Oh-kay!" Tony hollered, turning back immediately. "No more for you!" He reached for the cup she had just set down, but she ceased her sprinting, swatted his hand away and snatched her treasure to her chest.

"Stupid decision! Stupid decision!" She screamed, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Gibbs! Gibbs! He's taking my baby! He's Pow-napping my Caf!"

"Shh! I'm sorry, Abby, just shh!" Tony hissed. "Abby, come on, I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I won't—"

A hand smacked Tony upside the head more roughly than it usually did.

"Gibbs!" Abby shrieked excitedly. "My-Gibbs-Alarm-worked! Wow! I-didn't-think-it-would-work-because-I've-tried-so-many-times-to-get-you-to-come-using-that-before-but-nothing-happened-but-I-was-so-obviously-wrong-since-you're-so-obviously-here-and-" Abby gasped and pointed a finger at Tony, her eyes narrowed viciously. "You tried to take my Caf-Pow." She hissed, speaking much more slowly now.

Gibbs rolled his eyes.  
>"Abby, I really think you should lay off the caffeine."<p>

"That's what I told her, boss." Tony reiterated. Gibbs slapped him again.

"No! I need the stuff. It's mine!" Abby began running laps around her computers while sipping her Caf-Pow so violently that the cup was being sucked against the straw.

"Abby, you don't need that much caffeine." Gibbs stepped into her path, moving with her whenever she tried to go round him, as if he could predict where she was going to go.

"The director got shot, we have a really mean lady coming from New York, I need as much as I can get!"

"Abby, at least just give me the cups you left on the table."

"You can have those!" she said gleefully, shrugging. Tony lifted two of them.

"These are empty, Abby." he replied exasperatedly, shaking them and rattling the left-over ice.

"Exactly!" she grinned mischievously, her eyes gleaming.

"Abby, come on!" Tony snapped, setting the cups back down forcefully, making the others wobble. "This is ridiculous! You're running around like the Energizer Bunny on some bad speed."  
>Abby frowned at him, then snatched up a nearby empty Caf-Pow cup and threw it at his head.<p>

"You need to cool off!" Tony finished, ducking out of the way of the foam cup. Gibbs rolled his eyes and walked out of the lab.

"Boss!" Tony yelled after him, dodging another flying cup heavy with ice, and running for cover. "Boss! Wait up!" He remained crouched, and hurried after Gibbs.

Abby grinned to herself proudly and turned back to her beloved machines.  
>"Caf-Pow," she sang to them. "Caffy-Caffy-Pow-Pow." She punctuated the last two words with punches. "Caf. My Caf."<p>

**1:48 P.M.**

**SVU Headquarters**

Elliot lifted one of the chairs in Interrogation Room One and threw it into the metal grate over the window. Dr. Huang was watching concernedly from the other side of the one-way mirror. Captain Cragen walked in silently, shut the door to the observation room, and stood beside the psychiatrist. He knew that when Huang was observing someone, he needed quiet and stillness.

"He's been in there for about 10 minutes now. He has thrown the chair four times, and refuses to tell Fin, Melinda, or me anything about why he's angry."

Huang murmured.

"I bet you it has something to do with losing his partner." Cragen replied, jamming his hands into his pockets.

Huang frowned and turned to look at the older man beside him.

"How do you mean?"

"Well," Cragen sighed and cleared his throat. "She ditched him. They were at some café together and she went into the women's bathroom and didn't come back."

"Didn't she do something like that last month?" Huang tried to fight the smile he felt creeping across his lips.

"Yeah, and the month before that, and the one before that." Cragen said with a smile.

The two men shared the comical moment before one of the other interrogation room chairs connected with the plate glass inside the room. Cragen jumped; Huang just narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the mirror.

"Captain, is he bleeding?" He asked, pointing at Elliot. Before Cragen could answer, the door to the observation room opened abruptly and Fin stepped in.

"Yo, Cap'n. Liv's back." He nodded at Elliot. "You want me to tell him?"

Huang stiffened. "No. I think that we should wait to hear what Olivia has to say before we tell him anything. He may have said or done something to make her leave."

Cragen looked at his shoes.

"Are you suggesting that my two best detectives can't work well together?"

"I am suggesting that it might be wise for you to re-evaluate your current team. This seems to be a recurring theme, and Elliot's anger is not something that you can choose to ignore anymore. He is getting increasingly violent; I am told that he assaulted his own partner today right here in the squad room."

A deep red color flushed the captain's neck.

"I don't know where you're getting your information from, Doctor," He spat the label contemptuously. "But it's false." He turned toward Fin and the squad room, but only managed a step before the psychiatrist calmly rebutted him.

"I was told that by one of your best detectives; his own partner. He gripped her arm so tightly he left a bruise; if that isn't assault, I don't know what is. I think that Elliot ought to undergo a full psychiatric evaluation before returning to work. If you don't want me to do it, I can refer you to a colleague of mine."

"I think I know when my detectives are out of line, thank you." The balding man snapped.

"Captain, this is not debatable. I don't work for you, I work with you. My job is to protect those in this office just as much as it is to help those same people catch perpetrators." Huang stated in his gentle, soothing voice. Even Fin was getting aggravated by his coolness.

"Fine." The captain barked. "When he returns from his work in D.C., he'll go in for your evaluation." The psychiatrist started to speak, but Cragen held a hand up to stop him and spoke over him. "And only after he returns from his work in D.C. You don't give the orders around here, George. I do. This is my territory, and if you don't like that, go profile someplace else." He stormed out the room before Huang could reply. Fin eyed the doctor and shrugged before walking back out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Donnelly was standing behind Olivia, who was slouching in the chair at her desk. Munch was sitting on the corner of Olivia's desk, his head next to hers. He was whispering.

"Listen, Cragen's on the move, and Elliot's been throwing chairs in Interrogation 1 for ten minutes. I hope your little tryst or whatever it was, was worth it. You've rocked the boat, Liv."

She grinned at him and whispered back, "I can swim."

Munch looked at her concernedly, but before he could say anything in response, Cragen was standing over them.

"Can I see you in my office, Benson?" he asked quietly.  
>Olivia looked up at him.<p>

"Please?" He added.

Olivia couldn't recall hearing him say please before; she was concerned. She stood shakily and walked with him to his office, where he closed the door behind them.

She opened her mouth to speak in her own defense, but Cragen spoke over her.

"I don't care. I don't want to know where you went or what you did there." He motioned for her to sit down. "I just want to know that you're ok. You got Elliot calling TARU to track your phone, and then hospitals and morgues when he found out it was turned off. And what the hell happened this morning? Huang says you told him Elliot bruised you?"

Olivia sat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk and rested her head in her hands.

"I left because I needed time to think. I needed to get away. I had so many people concerned for me that I felt like I was suffocating. I didn't tell Eliot because he would have followed me, and frankly, I find it rather hard to have a private chat with my mother at her grave with him always breathing down my neck like some kind of warden."

Cragen looked at the muscular woman in front of him and saw her exactly as she so frequently shouted at Elliot for calling her; a child. She was like a scared little girl, doing her best to survive in a world of big people. He waited silently for her to continue.

"And yes, I told Huang that Elliot hurt me." She pulled her arm out of her jacket and lifted the three-quarter sleeve of her blouse to show him the hand print Elliot left. He winced. It was a nasty purple, tinged with blue and some yellow. "I'm worried about him, Captain. He's getting more and more violent." She yanked the sleeve back down and thrust her arm back into her jacket, grimacing when the armpit seam tugged against the bruise. "We were chasing a perp the other day and he tackled the guy and punched him right in the face, twice. I've had reason to doubt his motives before, but I've always stood by him; this..." She paused and waved a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "This feels different to me, somehow."

Cragen stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against his desk.

"George wants him to undergo psychiatric evaluation before I let him back on the job."

Olivia looked at her supervisor, a little confused.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked.

"Because you're his partner, and I already asked Munch to be acting unit chief in D.C., but he refused and threatened to quit. So you're it, Liv."

Olivia felt something swell in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was bile or pride.

"Captain, I don't think-"

"Well, I'm not coming with you all. Someone has to stay here and field One P.P., and Munch refuses to, as he puts it, 'Pull the over-abused cart of loony magnetism' again. Fin isn't ready, and Elliot is at risk of losing his badge. So that leaves you. Either you take it, or you go home." He knew that, if he worded it as an order, she would not refuse.

She swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and spoke.

"As acting unit chief, I feel that having Elliot with us in the field out of state would be an enormous risk." She took a steadying breath and opened her eyes, but did not meet his. "However, I feel that going without him would be an even bigger risk, and unnecessary one that could put the entire unit in greater danger than if we left him behind." Here she looked directly at her captain.

"As his partner, I am worried about his ability to do this job, but I hope that he would swallow that ridiculous pride of his and tell someone if he felt he couldn't." A tear snuck down her cheek. When she spoke again, her voice broke. "As his friend, I hope that he doesn't do something in the meantime that will kill him. And as an expectant mother, I pray that he doesn't do something that will make me have to leave him or this job behind because he's become too volatile."

At the mention of expectant motherhood, Captain Cragen's face lit up, but when he saw the pain on her face, he knew that something was wrong.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

She pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling.

"I was attacked, three months ago, in my apartment...and now I'm pregnant."  
>Cragen didn't know what to say. One of his own detectives, a rape victim? Sure, the possibility pf that happening had crossed his mind... This was SVU, after all, but he never thought it would be Olivia. Seal View had been a close call, and that was almost too much. She was like a daughter to him. A ball of rage clouded his reasoning for a moment and he wanted to jump up, find the bastard and kill him, but he knew his favorite detective well enough to know that she would want first dibs on that. He cleared his throat to ward off the impending tears and asked quietly,<p>

"Who knows?"

She sighed.

"Melinda and Donnelly."

"Judge Donnelly?" Cragen asked, surprised. Olivia nodded. "Are the two of you still, uh..." He blushed.

Olivia laughed and sniffled.  
>"No. I needed to focus on my work, and she...wanted someone who wasn't...how did she put it... obsessed." She finished, fiddling with a loose thread on her jacket sleeve.<p>

"Oh." Cragen cleared his throat. "Listen, if you ever need anyone to help with the baby, all you have to do is ask, Olivia. You have a whole squad of people here, ready to run to the rescue."

She looked up at her captain and smiled gratefully.

"Even Elliot." He added, quietly.

"He doesn't know yet." She whispered.

Captain Cragen nodded.

"He won't hear it from me. None of them will."

Olivia laid a hand on his elbow. He was like the father she never had.

"Thank you, Captain." She stood and walked back out into the squad room. She walked back to her desk, where Huang was waiting. She wiped a tear from her eye and smiled at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Hey, George." She greeted him quietly.

"Hey..." He responded softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "He wants to see you. Is that ok with you?"

She nodded and they walked to the interrogation room together, with George giving instructions the whole way.

"He doesn't know I've been watching him. He requested an empty room to vent in and Cragen stuck him in Interrogation Room 1. Try to calm him and talk to him about his anger. Make sure he knows that you're alright. And try not to let on that I'm out here, ok?"

Olivia nodded and entered the room alone. Huang waited in the observation room with the speaker set turned on so he could hear what was said. Elliot stood with his back to the door, a hand on either side of the grate covered window.

He turned quickly when she shut the door, sighed and ran a hand over his face, before turning back to the rusted metal.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He asked quietly.

"I went to talk to my mother." She said, picking up the two chairs and setting them in front of the metal table.

"You couldn't tell me that?" He barked, turning his head over his shoulder.

"Elliot, sit down please." She stated quietly.

He turned to face her, his eyes burning with a rage she knew he would never exact on her.

"Don't tell me what to do, Olivia." He murmured. "I waited for you for over a half hour."

"I know." She replied just as quietly.

"I called hospitals and the morgue to find you." He continued, a little louder.

"I know..." She repeated.

"I had no idea what had happened to you, Olivia." He was speaking in a normal tone now.

"I know."

"Then why the fuck didn't you call me or tell me you were going?" He shouted, knocking one of the chairs flying across the room. It crashed into the wall loudly, and Olivia closed her eyes.

"I knew you would react like this. I can't go anywhere or do anything without you worrying, Elliot." She said, opening her eyes again.

He turned away from her and punched the metal grate.

When he turned back, he looked like he was ready to hit her.

"You sound like Maureen." He spat, referring to his teenaged daughter.

"'I can't do this, I can't do that!'" He whined. "'You're a horrible father!'"

"You think you can fix your relationship with your family by micromanaging me?" Olivia asked loudly.

He took a step toward her and waved an accusing finger at her.

"Don't you dare imply that I'm not a good parent, ok? I work my ass off keeping dirt and scum off these streets so my kids can be safe. Why do you do this job, Olivia?" He was spitting now. She didn't answer him; he flipped the table over.

"Come on! You were so ready to judge me! Let's talk about you for a little while!" He yelled.

"Elliot, you need to calm down." She warned, standing and backing away slightly, both hands facing him with their palms out.

"Calm down?" He asked, then laughed. "I need to calm down." The smile fell off his face. "I want some goddamn answers here, Olivia!" He advanced toward her again.  
>"Ok, so calm down and I'll sit back down and we can talk." She motioned to the chair he'd knocked away. "Why don't we both sit?" She asked quietly. He gripped her shoulders roughly and forced her back down in the chair she'd just left.<p>

"No. You sit. And you start talking!" He held her down in the chair. She was shocked. This was new. He had never acted this hostile toward her before. She caught a glimpse of his sidearm. They should have taken it away! She had to find a way to tell George that he still had it without angering Elliot any more.

"Elliot, please, just calm down." She pleaded.

"Don't give me orders, Olivia!" He shouted, then released her and walked back to the grate.

"Elliot." She began, leaning forward slightly. "Give me your gun."

George Huang heard the word 'gun' and froze. They wouldn't have been so stupid as to leave Elliot's sidearm with him while he was in this state, would they? He turned the volume up.

Elliot turned to face his partner.

"Just give me the gun-"

"You don't trust me, either."He said, before rushing forward and lifting her out of the chair and dragging her to the metal grate. "Do you see all of the ungrateful filth who live and work in this city?" He bellowed, thrusting her forward so that her forehead almost knocked against the rusted steel. George ran out of observation, into the bullpen, and announced, "Elliot still has his sidearm." Then ducked back in to the observation room.  
>Fin, Munch, Donnelly, and Cragen all ran for the interrogation room and the three men burst through the door at once. Liz stayed in the observation room with Huang.<p>

The two partners stood together at the covered window, Elliot with his hands around Olivia's arms, forcing her to look out at the passersby.

"Yes, Elliot, I see them." She stated. He pulled her away from the window and turned her around roughly to see the small crowd gathered at the door.

"Now do you see the ungrateful filth I work for and with everyday?" He hissed in her ear.

She winced. "No, Elliot, I see your friends."

Munch and Fin stepped forward; Fin crossed his arms and scowled, while Munch waved warily. Cragen joined them and looked at Elliot, disappointed.

"What are you doing, Elliot?" He asked.

"Look again." Elliot snarled.

"She doesn't deserve this, Elliot." Fin growled.

"I see a group of people who are concerned about you." Olivia stated, looking at the men who were standing less than thirty feet away.

"They don't trust me, Olivia, they never have." He snapped, then pushed her away so she staggered forward.

Fin strode toward Olivia, reached an arm out to pull her back toward the door, but she ignored him.

"Elliot, we don't need an audience. You're like a brother to me, but right now you're acting like a real dick. I trust you, Elliot. You're my partner. I trust you with my life. Don't make me reconsider that." She shook her head and walked toward the door.

"Wait." Elliot called, burying his face in his hands.  
>Olivia paused, and nodded to the rest of them to leave. Huang came to the door, holding it open while the other three filed out. He closed it, leaving Olivia and Elliot alone again.<br>"He should be in jail for this." Liz ranted, her arms crossed.

"Yeah? And what'choo gonna do about, Donnelly?" Fin asked, coming to stand beside her and crossing his arms as well. "If Liv don't press charges, you got no case."

"Shh! Listen!" Huang whispered, pointing into the room.

"I'm sorry." Elliot murmured through his fingers, then let his arms fall to his sides. "I overreacted and treated you like..." He searched for the right word.

"Shit." Olivia finished, turning to face him.

"You're damn right, Liv." Fin muttered.

"Sshh!" Liz hissed. Fin glared at her, but stopped talking.

"Ok, not what I was going to say, but I won't argue that..." Elliot stared at his shoes.

"Elliot, you need to sit down. There's something I need to tell you." Olivia walked to the chair she had been ripped out of and stood behind it.

Elliot went to the corner where his chair had landed and carried it by it's back to where Olivia's sat. He set it down and retrieved the table, setting it upright.

At that, Liz shut off the speaker box and turned to face the group of men.

"All right, everybody out. I know what's coming and I know it isn't any of your business!" She pointed to the door.

"Aw, come on." Fin whined, turning to face the petite blonde. "It was just getting good!"

"No, Donnelly is right. Out." Cragen barked.

"Well, who's gonna keep an eye on Liv?" Fin motioned over his shoulder at the two behind the glass.

"I will." Cragen stated firmly. Liz met his gaze, and understood that he knew. She nodded and led the way back into the main room. "Let's go, out!" Cragen barked again, this time laying a hand on Fin's back to usher him toward the door.

"If you need any assistance, Captain, look no further than Ye Olde Bullpen." Munch declared, wandering out slowly.

"I'll be sure to call you first, John." Cragen replied sarcastically, pushing Fin out past the door jamb.

"Hey, that's all I ask." Munch joked back from just outside the door.

"Are you going to be alright in here alone?" Dr. Huang asked quietly.

The captain looked at the small Asian man he had so vehemently berated before and saw nothing but genuine concern.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." He scratched his nose. "Thanks, George."

The doctor nodded and gave a small, sad smile before leaving. Cragen shut the door and walked back to the one-way mirror, but didn't turn the sound back on. He didn't need to hear it all again.

**1:49 P.M.**

**NCIS Headquarters**

Doctor Mallard stood over the fourth body they had recovered from the scene in Quantico; the one Ziva had found in a tree. He had established that the man had been dead for a little over a month, that the cause of death was hypothermia, and that he was a little over 35. Duckie was finishing his autopsy notes when he noticed something he had overlooked that morning; there was a dead mouse under the metal sink.

""Allo, 'allo, 'allo! What is this?" Duckie dropped the file onto an empty autopsy table and knelt down to look at the rodent. "Well, well, well! Wee brown mouse you are, sir! Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there? Frightened a little mouse under her chair!"

The door to the lab opened and Duckie's assistant, Palmer, walked in. He leaned down beside the doctor.

"What are we looking at, Doctor?"

"Our little contaminate, here!" Duckie reached out and gripped the thing by its tail. "A wee brown mouse. Here, Mister Palmer...take him over there and dispose of him accordingly, won't you?"

Palmer took the rodent from the Medical Examiner and cradled it gingerly. Duckie began walking away.  
>"Uh, Doctor?" the young man stammered.<p>

"Mm?" Duckie replied, turning back to face his assistant.

"How do I dispose of him?"

"Oh. Yes. Well, that is a good question, isn't it? I suppose just tossing him into the bio-hazard receptacle is quite unceremonious. Perhaps we should give him a proper burial, yes?"

Palmer looked down at the mouse disgustedly.

"I guess..."

"Oh come now, Mister Palmer! He won't bite!" Duckie walked back over to his assistant and tickled the furry critters stomach. He paused after he pulled his hand back, then pressed again. "Huh. That is rather odd..."

"What is?" Palmer asked, craning his neck to look down at the dead thing.

"Well, I assumed this little one died because of some external trauma or something, as most small rodents do..." He trailed off here and lifted the mouse out of his assistant's grasp, carried it over to the empty autopsy table and laid it on its side on the cold metal.  
>"Doctor?" Palmer called, walking over to where the older man was standing and peering over his shoulder.<p>

"Just a moment, my boy, just a moment." The doctor muttered, prying the mouse's jaw open and finding a piece of cloth bearing an odd pattern inside. He removed it with a pair of forceps and held it up to the light. "Aha! Yes, it seems that this poor creature had the unfortunate luck of biting off a bit more than he could chew." He dropped the fabric into a small Petri dish and handed the dish off to Palmer, who stared at it momentarily.

"What's seems to be the problem?" Duckie asked, a little sternly.

"Hmm?" Palmer murmured, looking up. "Oh! Sorry, Doctor, it's just..." He looked back down at the cloth and cocked his head at an odd angle. "I'm sure I've seen this pattern before, today."

Duckie looked at him bemusedly.

"You've seen the pattern prior to today, or you have seen it sometime in the past twenty-four hours?" He asked, trying to clarify.

"No, I mean I saw the pattern this morning, but I can't remember where."

Duckie frowned.

"Yes, well, better get it up to Abby, Mister Palmer. And sooner rather than later, mm?" He raised an eyebrow here, and tapped the forceps on the side of the dish.

"Yes, Doctor. I'll be right back." Palmer turned to carry the small specimen up to Abby.

After the younger man left, Duckie turned to talk to the mouse on the table in front of him.

"I worry about him, sometimes, my friend. He's a bright boy, but sometimes, it's almost as if he's in another world. I think he day dreams too much, or perhaps he spends a wee bit too much time with our dear McGee and those video games." He chuckled to himself. "I daresay, his hand-eye coordination has improved." He leaned over the mouse and examined its mouth for a bit, before straightening again. "I do apologize, my good sir, but it appears that I will have to cut you open after all. I'll need to examine the contents of your stomach and intestines so that I may determine what you ate. That piece of fabric is from the jacket of our hypothermic gentleman over there. But don't worry, you won't catch cold!" He laughed at his own joke and grabbed a scalpel from the tray beside him. "Alright, Sir Mouse? I do apologize for this. It is rather disgraceful for a noble creature such as yourself to be subjected to a mock jousting match with a tiny knife, but I daresay you won't feel a thing."

**1:51 P.M.**

**Abby's Lab**

Palmer walked into Abby's lab holding the revolting specimen as far away from himself as possible. The forensic scientist bounded over to him and clapped her hands together.

"Whad'ya got for me?" she squealed.

"For you, I have a piece of fabric pulled from a dead mouse's mouth," Palmer stated, wrinkling his nose.

"Aww! The poor mouse!" she cried compassionately.

"It's a mouse, Abby. They're gross." Palmer shoved the dish into her hands.

Abby frowned and shook her head.

"No, they aren't! They're adorable and furry and have the cutest little foraging paws and perky ears!" She was speaking in a baby voice now, one hand at her mouth illustrating little teeth, the other holding the dish above her head as if it were one of the perky ears. "I love 'em! Do we know how he died?" she asked, letting the hand at her mouth fall back at her side and the hand on her head holding the Petri dish came and rested on her hip.

"No, Abby, that's what the sample is for," Palmer retorted with a smug smile.

She punched him in the shoulder lightly and waggled the dish under his nose.

"Ugh! Gross! Get it away!" he growled, laughing and pushing her hand away.

She giggled.  
>"Ok, but seriously, Duckie must have some clue," she said, waving him over to her workspace.<p>

Palmer sighed.

"You know the doctor. He starts talking and it's almost like he doesn't expect you to respond."

Abby snorted.

"Yeah, I know." She placed the sample on a microscope slide and then carefully laid the cover on top of it before setting it in place under the lens and peering into the device. "It's like when I talk to people! They don't even stick around to hear all of what I have to say. They're all just work, work, work. I'm down here all day by myself with nothing but the whirring machinery to keep me company, and they can't even be bothered to have a normal conversation with me! Like," she put on a deep voice, turned to her left. "'Hey, Abby! How's your day going?'" She adjusted her position as if she were speaking to someone on her right and continued in her normal voice, not noticing that Palmer had already left and that Gibbs was walking in quietly. "'I'm great, Gibbs, thanks for asking.'"

"I didn't, Abbs," he called, standing behind her now.

Abby jumped and looked around for Palmer.

"See?" she hollered. "Nobody listens to me! If he'd stuck around, he'd know what killed the mouse. But noooooooooooooooo, he has to go be all macho-man and get back to his work, work, work!"

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee and swallowed before gently brushing a hair out of the corner of Abby's mouth.

"What mouse, Abby?"


End file.
